


still high with a little feeling

by Byrdye



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fluff, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Marking, Past Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Possessive Behavior, Vampires, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6240301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrdye/pseuds/Byrdye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Louis stumble upon a dangerous animal in the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any betas or anything, sorry! I fucking love a/b/o verse !!! this'll be completely finished by the end of this week :) it's so much fun to write. 
> 
> no warnings really, it's not going to be really angsty either.

“I don’t understand why you bought this place if you hate nature. Seems a bit silly.”

 

Louis grins at Zayn’s sour expression, his dark brows furrowed together as he trudges along reluctantly beside him.

 

“I just wanted somewhere fans wouldn’t bother me. I’m more suited to urban environments, I don’t need to go off and howl in the woods,” Zayn counters bitterly. Louis rolls his eyes. Zayn is a highly respected, extremely old vampire, and his admirers would be shocked at the whiny baby he turns into when he’s around his best friend. Zayn is a force to be reckoned with, but around Louis he’s a grumpy, tiny vampire who just wants to lay around smoking weed all day.

 

There’s a loud, ghastly noise in the distance. Louis and Zayn stop dead. Louis scents the air.

 

The scent is unmistakable, something that pings in his brain and makes his entire body tense. It’s another werewolf.

 

“Louis, stay behind me, I’ll go see what’s up,” Zayn says, posture tight, teeth extended, placing a firm hand on Louis’ sweaty shoulder. Louis growls at him a little too forcefully, nervous and uncomfortable.

 

“I’m fine, Zayn. Seriously. I can handle myself.” He pushes forward, shrugging off Zayn’s hand as they rush toward the strong scent and the loud, guttural noises, growing louder as they break through the trees.

 

The wolf is massive. He’s snarling, snapping his jaws, writhing and bucking. Louis sees dark red blood in the dirt below him, and sees him gnawing at his own leg. He’s caught in a bear trap, and Louis can see his skin trying to heal around the metal. He’s whining and growling, his eyes deranged, foaming at the mouth in his pain.

 

“Jesus,” Louis exclaims. The wolf’s eyes snap up to him, and he lunges for them. The chain yanks hard on the the wolf’s injured leg, and he lets out a horrible scream.

 

Zayn has a hand on his chin, watching the wolf struggle vehemently trying to break free and rip their throats out. His noises have become even more unsettling, the fury in his voice making Louis’s entire body tremble.

 

“There’s something wrong with him. I can’t let this disrespect go unpunished. And I certainly can’t let this creature terrorize the humans nearby.” Zayn steps forward resolutely, coldness in his gaze.

 

“Stop. He’s not a creature, Zayn. He’s… He’s like me. He’s in pain.” Louis watches the wolf struggle, watches foamy, bloody slobber pour into the dirt. He doesn’t seem to tire at all, only glares at Zayn with hatred in his bright green eyes.

 

“He won’t let us near to set him free. And if we do set him free, he will attack us and I will be forced to kill him.”

 

Louis bites his lip. “Can you use your influence on him? Maybe knock him out long enough for us to bind him and take him back to the house?”

 

Zayn eyes him with distaste. “You want to bring him into my home? Seriously Louis? He’s completely feral. It’s not even close to the full moon and he’s behaving like this.”

 

“You said it yourself, there’s something wrong. This doesn’t feel right.”

 

Zayn sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We can try. If he destroys anything in my house though, Louis, it’s on your ass. You already owe me for throwing up on my three-hundred-year-old throw rug.”

 

“Well that one was a favor to you, because who fucking keeps a rug around for three hundred years, and it was fucking hideous and _you know it_.”

 

It’s an argument they’ve probably had at least forty times, and Zayn rolls his eyes. He turns to the growling, snarling wolf in front of them, not bothering to counter. They’ll never agree. (Zayn will never concede that his rug was ugly, it smelled old, it looked old, and Louis’s vomit was the best thing to ever happen to it.)

 

Louis will never get used to the feeling of Zayn’s power. He’s only felt it a handful of times, Zayn doesn’t need to use his influence to get what he wants, but it’s uncomfortable and startling every time. Every bird in the forest goes silent as Zayn locks eyes with the wolf.

 

Louis watches, knees buckling slightly, as the wolf freezes in his actions. He lets out a pathetic growl, but Zayn pushes forward, eyes blazing. He stalks closer and closer, until he can reach out and place a hand on the wolf’s forehead. The wolf tries to stand, growling feebly. Louis, to his amazement, sees sweat break out on Zayn’s forehead.

 

The wolf’s eyes roll back and he collapses onto his side with a loud thump.

 

Louis is on the ground when he comes to, Zayn hauling him to his feet.

 

“That was…the strongest creature I have ever encountered. I had to use my entire will to make him submit. I’ve never had to do that.” Zayn murmurs, sounding bewildered. He runs a soothing hand through Louis’s hair. Louis nuzzles into his neck, sucking in shaky breaths.

 

“Yeah I fucking felt that. I think you also knocked out every woodland creature in the vicinity,” Louis jokes, his voice cracking. Zayn gently rubs a hand over Louis’s arm, which is covered in goosebumps.

 

“We need to get him back to the house. I don’t know how long he’ll stay unconscious, but I doubt it’ll be long.”

 

They approach the giant, slumbering wolf. Zayn wraps his arms around the wolf’s neck, holding tightly. “If he wakes up I should be able to hold him back from snapping at you. You need to remove the trap as quickly as you can.”

 

Louis eyes the device, bile rising in his throat. The wolf’s body is trying to grow around the trap, as werewolves have incredibly fast healing rates. Blood oozes out from the wound, sharp and intense in its scent. Louis grits his teeth and grasps both ends of the trap.

 

His arm muscles scream in protest, his fingers cracking and his back popping as he tries to force the jaws open and off of the wolf’s foreleg. Louis is strong, even in his human form, and eventually the hinge of the jaws breaks open. He rips the metal out of the wolf’s skin as fast as he can. It makes an awful, wet noise, and he gags a little bit, watching the muscle stitch around the bone.

 

The wolf hasn’t stirred.

 

“You’re gonna fucking carry him back, Louis. God I hate nature.”

 

They end up both carrying the wolf down the long trek to Zayn’s house. It’s completely wooded, and the trail is too thin for a massive wolf to fit. It’s a huge fucking pain navigating, Louis at the rear and Zayn supporting the beast’s lolling front. They finally make it to the house, and they argue for thirty minutes on where to put him. First Zayn suggests they tie him up outside, then he suggests, again, that they kill him, then Louis suggests Zayn’s bedroom, and finally Zayn argues for tying him up in the woods somewhere.

 

“You can’t just leave him tied up outside. We draw our strength from the moon and he will easily break out and go off and kill every newborn baby in town.”

 

“I don’t want him in my house, Lou! He stinks like roadkill and I don’t want to wake up to him chewing on my skull.”

 

“We can put him in the cellar. You don’t use it, it’s warm, and he won’t be able to feel the moon there,” Louis reasons as calmly as he can when he’s imagining yanking Zayn to the ground by his perfect hair.

 

“But my wine is in there, Louis! My incredibly expensive, incredibly old wine!” Zayn groans. Louis can see he’s close to stomping his foot in a tantrum.

 

“We’ll tie him up so he can’t wake up and freak out. I’ll convince him to change back and I’ll see what’s going on. He won’t break any of your wine bottles that you don’t intend to drink,” Louis soothes. Zayn pouts at him, then sighs. “Fine, fine. You’re going to owe me when he inevitably breaks something. You’re going to owe me big time.”

 

“If you want sexual favors from me all you have to do is ask. You don’t have to use a feral werewolf and old ugly ass rugs as your excuses,” Louis chirps as they haul the wolf through the double doors and to the cellar. Zayn scoffs.

 

“Sexual favors from _you_ would not make up for the loss of a two-hundred year old cabernet.” They drop the wolf in the center of the room. They chain him up together with thick, slightly rusting chains leftover from the previous owner of the house, who had used the estate as a working farm.

 

“You’ll never know that unless you try,” Louis counters, but he’s distracted. He watches the wolf sleep, and scents him. There is an overlaying smell of death and decay, but the scent of the wolf himself is…pleasant. It’s warm and sweet and a little fiery. Louis buries a hand in the thick fur at the scruff of the neck and gives him a little scratch.

 

“Do you have an muzzles lying around? The old owner own any mean dogs?”

 

“No, but that would be nice. I would be much less annoyed at having two werewolves in my house if at least one of them kept its mouth shut.”

 

Louis tackles Zayn to the ground (Zayn lets himself be tackled, if he’s being honest) and tickles the man until he’s flushed and giggling. The wolf doesn’t wake.

 

-

Louis drags his comforter, pillows, and bedcover down to the cellar. Zayn has countless blankets stored in the upstairs cupboard, and he takes those too. He also steals all of the couch cushions off of a squishy old couch tucked away in an upstairs room that he’s certain Zayn has never even gone in.

 

He makes a little nest out of the cushions and the blankets and heaves the massive wolf up onto them. He makes sure none of his legs are bent at awkward angles.

 

He knows the wolf will probably be hungry when he wakes up, and he has a little internal battle about it. Should he put out a bowl of food and water, or a cup and a plate? Would he be offended if someone tried to feed _him_ like a dog in the same situation? Would the wolf even be cognizant when he woke up?

 

He tries to ask Zayn about it, but the vampire is dead asleep, exhausted from the minimal effort of the day, burrowed in his thick black covers. Louis doesn’t dare wake him. He’d woken up Zayn once and literally been bit on the face.

 

So Louis returns to the cellar with a bowl of water and a sandwich. He arranges a little bed for himself out of his pillows and his comforter, and snuggles up with his phone, scrolling through twitter. He pushes the sandwich underneath the wolf’s nose. He still doesn’t stir.

 

He watches a few youtube videos then, watching the other wolf out of the corner of his eye. He just continues breathing deeply, looking massive yet feeble in his chains and makeshift bed. Louis watches him and watches him, until his eyes slip closed and he falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

Louis wakes up to hands on his throat and deafening snarling in his ears.

 

The wolf is on top of him, transformed. His scent is stronger as a human. He is caked in gore and dirt, his green eyes bright and wild from the red mess of his face. His teeth are bared as he would bare them as a wolf. He has long, matted hair, he’s covered in tattoos, and he’s going to either strangle Louis to death or rip his throat out.

 

Louis panics. He can’t breath and the pressure of the heavy wolf _hurts._ He whines, tilting his chin back, baring his belly as best as he can. The man is straddling his waist, so he doesn’t know if he can see his gesture of submission. Louis lets out another whimper.

 

He thinks about what he would do as a wolf, tapping into his instincts that he usually keeps buried for the full moon. The wolf’s grip loosens on his neck, and he tentatively turns to lick his fingers. They taste horrible and Louis almost gags, but the submissive gesture seems to knock all of the aggression out of the feral man. He slumps over Louis, tucking Louis’s head into his chin, scenting him. He sniffs across Louis’s face and hair, then over his bruised neck. Louis’s cheeks burn. He lays limp, inhaling the soothing scent of the wolf and the sour scent of death.

 

“Who are you?” Louis asks quietly as the wolf grasps his hand to sniff at his wrist. He licks at Louis’s fingers, tasting him. His eyes snap to Louis’s at the question, but he doesn’t answer or seem to understand. Louis eyes his left arm where the bear trap had penetrated his skin. There’s no scar or mark indicating the sickening injury occurred.

 

“Does your arm hurt?” Louis asks, sitting up a bit. The wolf freezes, snarling, pupils dilating. “Sorry, sorry,” Louis soothes quietly, laying back and exposing his throat. He gets a sharp bite on the shoulder for his trouble. “Jesus, sorry,” Louis sputters, face hot. Wolf-y behaviors feel weird when he’s in this body. It’s difficult to get past his human brain to tap into his other self, the self that would love to play and hunt with this frightening, angry creature. The wolf licks over his jaw, snuggling on top of him with his full weight. He’s fucking heavy. Louis raises his hand and scratches over the man’s scalp, fingers tangling in his matted, dirty hair. He rumbles low in his chest, licking at Louis’s jaw appreciatively.

 

“You stink,” Louis tells him. The licking continues in time with Louis scratches.

 

“What the bloody fuck?” Zayn’s sleepy voice carries down the stairs. Louis can’t move his head fully to look at him, but he feels the wolf’s reaction from on top of him. The man snarls, rising to a crouch above Louis. He truly is the wolf from the forest. The anger, the hatred in him permeates through the room. Zayn snarls back at him.

 

“Zayn, stop. Go back upstairs, we’re okay down here. You’re upsetting him.”

 

Louis sits up and wraps his arms around the man’s middle, trying to pull him back down. He growls louder, his body shaking with the force of his anger.

 

“Louis, do you know who that is?”

 

Every moment Zayn stays in the cellar, Louis can feel the wolf getting angrier. He watches his pupils eclipse his green irises, the blood on his face runs tacky with the foam from his mouth.

 

“That’s Harry Styles, Louis. That’s fucking Harry Styles.”

 

Zayn bursts into manic laughter, backing up the steps. The wolf growls louder, and Louis is sputtering out underneath him. “What? Zayn? What?!? Seriously!” He hears Zayn’s laughter until the cellar door slams shut.

 

Harry Styles abruptly stops growling an sinks down, limp, onto Louis again. Louis is frozen with shock. He hadn’t recognized the pop star under all the grime, but when he looks closely, he recognizes the tattoos. The green eyes. The sharp jawline. The wolf nuzzles at Louis’s jaw a little aggressively, soothing himself over the stress he’s just been put through. Louis scratches at his hair again.

 

“Harry?”

 

The wolf ignores the sound of his voice in favor of licking at Louis’s eyebrows. “Harry. What happened to you? Why were you in the forest?” Louis asks gently. He scratches down Harry’s back, up and down, gently.

 

Harry abruptly rolls off of him and onto his back next to him. He stretches out, arms above his head. Louis’s cheeks burn again at his nudity. He looks at Louis with purpose. Louis sighs, scratching at his belly. Harry’s eyes close, another rumble issuing from his throat, and Louis feels absolutely ridiculous.

 

What the fuck happened to Harry Styles?


	2. Chapter 2

Louis lets Harry smother him and groom him for an hour before he decides, if they’re going to continue like this, Harry has got to take a bath. The sandwich from earlier is gone, as is the water. Harry snoozes on his chest, looking peaceful and relaxed. Louis sits up, cradling the wolf’s head in his lap. “Let’s get you clean, right Harry? You’ve got blood all over me clothes.” He swipes a thumb across Harry’s jaw.

 

He stands shakily, his legs a little bit asleep. Harry starts, looking wary. Louis smiles at him soothingly, bends down to wrap his arms around his shoulders, letting Harry scent his neck. He stands up fully again, stalks backwards towards the door. “Come on, Harry.” Harry’s brow is furrowed, but he obeys, rising to his feet. Louis almost expected him to crawl on all fours.

 

He wraps an arm around Louis’s waist, nuzzling him again. Louis is familiar with the need for touch and reinforcement this way, but he’s never spent enough time with other wolves to understand the extent of the dynamics. As a child, his mum used to soothe him by grasping the back of his neck and petting his belly. She was a human, but she understood his need for physical affection. He often slept curled up against her side or at the foot of her bed, just so he had a pack nearby to comfort him. He feels it now more than ever, the magnetic pull to Harry, the constant need to affirm his submissive position and to soothe his…to soothe him.

 

They pass Zayn in the kitchen, where the vampire is reading his iPad at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of tea. Louis stares jealously at it. Harry immediately begins to growl from beside him. Zayn rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s alright, mate, Zayn’s nice. It’s okay.” He tucks his head under Harry’s chin, hugging him tightly. All of Harry’s muscles are tense, building up a furious pressure.

 

“Just forget it, Lou. I don’t give a fuck if Harry Styles likes me. Why are you bringing him up here, anyway?”

 

“I’m going to give him a bath. He’s obviously been killing stuff for days and just sleeping in it. I’m probably gonna try to brush his teeth too, if he’ll let me.” He drags Harry away from Zayn by the arm. Harry turns his head to growl at Zayn some more, eyes hard, posture rigid. Zayn glares back at him.

 

Harry lets himself be dragged into the bathroom, watches Louis turn the shower on, and then begins a mad dash for the door. Louis leaps and tackles him, well, tries to tackle him. He ends up on Harry’s back, pulling backward as hard as he can. Harry snarls at him, hands grabbing for the door.

 

“Seriously, Harry! You’re not a dog! You’re a werewolf! You’re a man! Men like baths!” Louis grunts in his ear, holding on for dear life. Harry stops struggling and lets out a pathetic whine. He bites Louis’s jaw _hard._ Louis yelps. “Ouch! Jesus.”

 

Harry looks a little startled. He twists and maneuvers Louis to his front, examining the damage. He laps at the hurt, and that also fucking _hurts._ Louis lets him, though, gritting his teeth.

 

He tries numerous methods to get Harry into the shower. He tries pushing him in, coaxing him in gently, and screaming insults at him. Harry just sits resolutely on the toilet lid, his face stern.

 

“Oh, bugger it.” Louis strips off his shirt, his cheeks heating under Harry’s gaze. He has nothing to be ashamed about, Harry’s naked too and hasn’t been bothered by it. He unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down with his boxers. He strips off his socks last and tosses the pile of clothes across the bathroom. He steps into the shower, and it’s way too hot. He lets out a hiss, turns down the knob to halfway.

 

Harry is still watching him from the toilet seat, his eyes narrowed.

 

“Come on, Harry. It’s so nice in here," Louis sing-songs, raising his eyebrows. It doesn't work, and he groans in frustration.

 

Louis is surprised by the amount of grime running down the drain by his toes. Harry got him really dirty in the span of only a couple of hours. He glances at Harry again. The man is still sitting stiffly, staring at him.

 

Louis sighs, begins to wash his hair. At least he’ll be clean after this. He’ll just have to wipe down Harry as best as he can with a towel. He leans back to rinse the soap out of his hair, and he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

 

Harry eases his way into the shower, baring his teeth at the feeling of the water, but then relaxing. Louis smiles at him, pets him. “There you go. Thanks Harry.” Harry leans in, nuzzles Louis’s jaw. Louis coughs, face flaming. He wasn’t naked when he was touching Harry before. He arches his back so his cock doesn’t come into contact with any part of Harry’s body.

 

He maneuvers Harry so he’s directly under the spray, and sets to work on his hair. It’s horrifically matted with dirt and blood, and a leaf even hits the shower floor as Louis works just plain water through it. He washes it three times while Harry purrs into his collarbones, and then uses as much conditioner as he can to work the mats out.

 

He then grabs a washcloth and scrubs at Harry’s body. Harry likes this part a lot less, whining and growling and snapping at him as he attempts to clean the filthy man. He has to pause for a minute to snuggle him and soothe him, rolling his eyes.

 

He saves his face for last, and Harry seems to enjoy this part. He avoids the man’s eyes, gently swiping at the blood and gore crusted around his lips, his forehead, and his neck. By the time he’s rinsed, Louis can’t take his eyes off of him.

 

He’s looking at easily the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. His long, wet hair hangs in waves around his face. His jaw is sharply defined, his lips are bright red and plump. Water clings to his long lashes, and he squints, masking the brilliant green of his eyes.

 

Louis coughs, shakes himself. He turns off the shower and trudges out. He grimaces at the shower floor, which he’s going to need to give a good scrubbing with bleach. He quickly towels himself off and slips into his boxers, not bothering with the rest of his clothes. Harry watches at him with hooded, relaxed eyes. 

 

Louis towels Harry off as well, scrubbing it through his hair and over his legs and arms. Harry leans into the treatment, purring.

 

“Lou, you both alive in there?” Zayn calls through the door. Harry’s body tenses. Louis shushes him.

 

“Yeah we’re good.” His voice is rough and it’s _so embarrassing._ He clears his throat.

 

“Okay. I made you both some pancakes for when you’re done.”

 

Louis’s lips quirk up in a little smile. Zayn’s cute. “Thanks mate!”

 

He leads Harry into his room, where the man launches himself on Louis’s bed and sniffs at his pillows, his comforter, and rubs his body along it. Louis decidedly doesn’t watch him blatantly scent-mark his bed. He squints into his closet. He’s a lot smaller than Harry, and so is Zayn. He doubts either of them have clothes that will really fit him. He chooses one of his baggiest, softest jumper and a pair of joggers for Harry, and jeans and a t-shirt for himself.

 

He dresses quickly, then turns to Harry’s form sprawled out across his bed.

 

He approaches slowly, holding up his jumper. Harry watches him, limbs loose, hair wet and curling into _little ringlets, Christ._ He bunches the jumper up around the neck hole and brings it down over Harry’s head.

 

Louis should have realized that a simple matter of clothing a grown man would result in a fucking wrestling match. Louis manages to get the jumper over Harry’s head, but the wolf will not let him put his arms through the sleeves. Louis tries forcing him, but Harry is both immovable and somehow wiggly beneath him. He ends up sweaty, huffing and furious, straddling Harry’s chest while the wolf _smirks_ at him. “You’re an arsehole. You’re faking all of this, aren’t you. You just want to annoy me. You’re just here to make my life miserable,” Louis laments. Harry smooths his hands over Louis’s waist.

 

Louis growls at him, furious and startling himself a little, and starts to move off the bed.

 

Harry grapples with him, pins him down with his full body weight, rumbling in his chest. That’s when Louis feels him, his fully erect cock brushing against Louis’s zipper. Harry’d obviously gotten hard from Louis manhandling him. Louis’s cheeks are flaming red, and he's still _angry,_ god dammit. He lets out a yelp of protest, trying to squirm out from under Harry. Harry growls at him harshly, reminiscent of his wolf, but softens the sting of it by grinding against him in a way that sends shivers through Louis’s whole body.

 

Harry bites at Louis’s jaw where he had so roughly bitten him earlier. It fucking hurts, andLouis would love to push him off, tell him no, give him a smack on the nose like he would to a dog, but instead he spreads his legs and digs his nails into Harry’s back. Harry is making low noises in his ear, slowly rocking against his clothed crotch in a way that must be chafing him, must hurt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He presses a big hand against Louis’s tummy and pushes his top up so it’s bunched under his armpits and grinds a few times against his bare skin.

 

Louis suddenly wants so much to make Harry feel good his eyes burn. He wants Harry to fuck him, fill him up with his pups, make him smell like him. Louis brings his own hand to his mouth, spits, gets it wet, and moves down to grasp Harry’s fat cock. Harry lets out a low, appreciative noise, and Louis feels so warm, so good. He’s biting all over Louis’s neck, fucking hard into his hand. Louis’s face and neck are raw, and he can’t seem to catch his breath. And he’s _wet_ in his underwear, sweat soaking through. His cock _hurts_ from where it’s trapped in his jeans. He wants them off, needs Harry to fuck him.

 

Harry pants against Louis’s face. Louis arches his back to kiss him, bites at Harry’s plump, red lips. Harry groans into his mouth, his cock sliding wet through Louis’s fingers. Louis looks down at him. His hand looks so small, wrapped around him. “Alpha,” Louis whispers, and it’s not a word he’s consciously thinking about, but Harry’s his _Alpha_ , smelling so good, taking him so good. He’s making Harry moan, he’s being such a good boy - Louis comes in his pants, shaking all over. Harry bites him hard on his shoulder and shoots all over Louis’s tummy. Louis is so good. He made Harry come. He dazedly swipes his hand through the spunk, brings his hand up to taste it. It tastes as good as Harry smells. His Alpha.

 

Harry groans, pushing his softening cock a few more times through Louis’s fingers. He licks at Louis’s mouth, spreads out across Louis again with his full body weight. Louis is so secure and warm under his Alpha. He kisses Harry back, basking in the attention. Harry isn’t fully kissing him, more tasting his mouth, every so often getting distracted with Louis’s ears, his bruised neck, his shoulders.

 

“Louis, are you gonna come eat these pancakes or what?” Zayn yells from the floor below. Harry and Louis freeze.

 

“Yeah, we’ll be down in a sec!” Louis croaks. He weakly wiggles out from under Harry and scrambles off the bed, hurriedly stripping off his dirty clothes. His boxers are soaked with sweat. He strips them off and runs a hand over his arse, which is strangely slippery. It doesn’t feel like sweat. He wipes himself off on his come-streaked t-shirt (a black one that will now be stained forever, wonderful) and searches for new clothes. His eyes come across the jumper he’d been trying to wrestle onto Harry. He’s pulling it on before he’s even aware of what he’s doing. It smells like his Alpha.

 

Harry crowds up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in Louis’s neck. Louis’s body relaxes, lets out a little shuddery breath.

 

* * *

 

Zayn won’t stop staring at him. Louis is cutting up pieces of pancake and feeding them to a very irritated Harry. Harry is glowering at Zayn, his arms tight around Louis’s waist. It’s a bit difficult to maneuver, sitting in Harry’s lap whilst feeding both of them, but Louis can’t bring himself to detach a single inch of his body from him. Zayn watches them, mouth slightly agape, eyes sparkling.

 

“Shut up Zayn.”

 

“I’m not saying anything.” Zayn’s mouth twitches, his eyes even brighter. Louis glares at him, feeds Harry another piece of pancake.

 

“So…Did you two have a good shower?”

 

“Shut up Zayn.”

 

“Did you curl your hair, Lou? I think you burned yourself a bit with the iron.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Zayn bursts into giggles, and it’s really hard for Louis to be pissed at him when his face scrunches up like that. “Harry Styles. The pop star. Beloved by millions of girls all over the world, macking on your neck in my home.”

 

“You’re beloved by millions of girls too, idiot. We’re not talking about this. I don’t know what’s happening, but I am definitely not going to talk about it.”

 

Zayn is quiet for a little while, still grinning at him.

 

“He seems calmer now, at least. We should call his family or summat. Let them know he’s alright.”

 

A frisson of fear runs through Louis. Harry’s his. What if his family takes him away? He won’t let them. Harry’s his Alpha. He’s not leaving. Harry senses his distress. He tucks Louis’s head under his chin. Louis forces himself to be rational. 

 

“Yeah, you’re right. Do you know how to get ahold of any of them? This is really fucked up.”

 

Zayn hums. “I could call my manager, ask for Harry Styles’s rep. Tell him I’m wanting to collab or summat. His mate Niall follows me on Twitter, I could send him a DM, let him know what’s up.”

 

Louis is getting more upset the more Zayn talks. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, he should want Harry Styles safe and back to normal, but the thought of his Alpha leaving him has his hands shaking. He swallows back his terror, gripping Harry’s forearms tightly as the man soothingly rubs over his belly.

 

“Yeah, do that. I don’t know if you should mention that he’s a werewolf, though. Harry might not’ve told him.”

 

Zayn purses his lips. “I don’t know how he couldn’t know. They’re really close, childhood friends, and Styles was pretty obviously a rabid wolf trying to bite our heads off in the woods yesterday. Dunno how Niall could miss that.”

 

He’s probably right, but Louis doesn’t want to take any chances. Zayn agrees to send Niall a vague message about Harry’s whereabouts, and that he’s safe.

 

Niall replies fast, to Louis distress. They’re only halfway through an episode of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia when Zayn’s phone pings with the notification. Zayn reads the message, and then begins typing furiously. Louis freezes with his fingers tangled in Harry’s hair, Harry’s head nuzzled in his lap. Harry nudges him to keep petting.

 

“What did he say? What are you typing?” Louis breathes.

 

Zayn doesn’t look up from his phone. “He’s really happy to hear Harry’s okay. He’s asked for the address so he can come by and see him. He’s let Harry’s mum know. Didn’t mention anything about Harry being a werewolf, but he might not know I know.”

 

Louis bites his lip and continues smoothing his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I’m nervous,” He admits.

 

“Bout what?” Zayn’s concern creasing his brow.

 

“There’s some like… werewolf biology shit going on. I don’t know. My mom’s a human so I don’t really know about that stuff, but… It feels weird.”

 

Zayn’s gaze gets a little bit more intense. “Like how?”

 

“Like…I don’t know. I called him my Alpha earlier. I keep calling him that in my head. I don’t even really know what that means, but it feels right. I don’t want his family to take him away from me.” Louis locks eyes with Harry, who’s purring at the attention. Harry gives him a little smile.

 

“Don’t freak out, Lou, but I know what’s going on.”

 

Zayn pauses, takes a deep breath. His phone pings again, he quickly scans the message. “Horan’s coming here in a few hours.”

 

Louis swallows.

 

“Remember um… Remember the bloke I told you about? Liam?”

 

Louis nods, everything feels suddenly very serious. Zayn is very vague about his past, offering only snippets of stories every so often. He’s lived a long, hard life, from what Louis can tell. He never presses Zayn for information, but sometimes Zayn will randomly blurt out some experience, some time he spent in China, or when he was almost mauled by a bear in America. Liam was mentioned once after a long night at a club, Louis curled into Zayn’s side as they smoked together on the balcony.

 

“I loved someone, once,” Zayn had said suddenly, into their drunken silence. “His name was Liam. He was young when I met him. He lived in a little town nearby where I was living at the time. Knew him his whole life. Fell in love with him. I still think about him all the time.”

 

Louis had curled into him tighter, silent, lacing their fingers together.

 

Zayn clears his throat, rubbing at the stubble on his face.

 

“Liam was like you two. He was a werewolf.”

 

This startles Louis a bit. He and Zayn had never really talked about it, but he had assumed Zayn had never met other werewolves. He himself had only met a few in passing, in a pub or in a shop, and he’d never had a close relationship with one. It’s strange to him that Zayn hasn’t told him this until now.

 

“His parents and sister were werewolves too. Nobody in town knew but me. Humans don’t really notice much, but I knew from their smells, their demeanor, just their general behavior. Liam was so kind. One of the kindest people I’ve ever known, ‘sides you. We fell in love when he was in his twenties. He was so young. I don’t remember the year, exactly, but I think this was around… fifty? Sixty years ago? Something around there.”

 

“God, you’re fucking old,” Louis tells him.

 

“Shut up, yeah? I’m trying to be fucking serious.”

 

Louis giggles, and Zayn glares at him.

 

“ _Anyway,_ I was really hesitant about being with him, at first. He was so young, and I’d literally watched him grow up. I had many years of experience on him, and I was afraid for him in a relationship like that, but he really didn’t give a fuck. He was so persistent and… enamored. He was cute. When we finally got our shit together we ended up staying together for fifteen years. Fifteen years. And then he met his mate. He was an Omega, and he found his Alpha when he was out at the shop buying our cat food.”

 

Zayn bites his lip, his eyes a little glassy.

 

“He came home and…He was so kind about it. He even brought me the fucking cat food. He was so kind, h’came inside, held my hands, was bawling his eyes out. He’d known about his biology since he was a child, because he’d grown up in a house full of werewolves. He told me he loved me, that he was sorry, but he couldn’t control this. He’d found his mate, and that was that.” Zayn shrugs a little helplessly.

 

“God Zaynie that’s awful,” Louis whispers. Zayn nods, smiling sadly. “Yeah, it was really bad. It was like a switch flipped in his brain, and all of his love and his devotion went to his mate. He still loved me, but that it wasn’t the same as what he felt for his Alpha.”

 

Louis glances down at Harry, who’s sleeping now in his lap. His eyes follow the waves of his long hair to his broad shoulders, his big hands curled up against his chest, the vee of his hips, his long legs.

 

“Christ,” Louis croaks.

 

Zayn joins them on their couch and wraps and arm around Louis’s shoulder. Louis, careful not to wake Harry, leans in to the hug, shaking a bit. “I’m sorry that happened, babe,” Louis whispers. Zayn shakes his head, kisses Louis’s temple. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

 

Louis remembers Zayn’s words that night on the balcony, _I still think about him all the time_ , and he imagines that a long time, to someone with all the time in the world, isn’t quite long enough.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long I have no excuses :X it's not complete either because I've got way too many ideas to end it yet :)

By the time Niall texts Zayn to let them know he’s a few minutes from the property, Louis is a ball of tension and anxiety. Harry is so sweet, petting him, licking him, attempting a few times to shove a hand down his pants _in front of Zayn,_ and it does calm Louis somewhat, but the fear he feels has his teeth on edge.

 “He’s here,” Zayn murmurs, glancing at his phone. He walks to the front door, patting Louis genially on the shoulder, hand snapping back quickly to avoid Harry’s bite in the direction of his fingers.

 Zayn opens the door, stands aside to let the man in. Niall glances around the foyer, whistling. “You have a really beautiful home. Wow, I really love your style. Did you decorate the place yourself?” He’s peaking around at the walls, eyes bright and interested, an easygoing friendliness about his posture. His eyes fall on Harry, then on Louis, as Harry is naked and draped across Louis like an overcoat.

 Zayn is visibly preening, grinning his scrunched up little smile. “I did, thank you so much.”

 Niall smiles back at him a little distractedly, now, and turns his full attention to Harry and Louis. Harry is distracted with cleaning the spot where Louis’s hair meets the nape of his neck.

 “Harry?” He calls down the hallway, a little bewildered. Louis feels Harry freeze, his head snap up. Louis didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t for Harry’s body to begin seizing and shivering, the way Louis’s own does just before he changes.

 He spins in Harry’s frozen arms, finds the man’s mouth agape, sees that his eyes are fully black and his teeth are sharp and stretching out over his lips. For a moment, Louis just stares, in awe of how he looks in this moment, raw and beautiful, and incredibly dangerous.

 Harry let’s out a strained little gurgle, and then a growl.

 “Shit,” Zayn hisses from down the hall.

 Louis claps both of his hands on either side of Harry’s gaping, snarling mouth, and the man’s black eyes snap down to him from where they were focussed on Niall. He’s panting now, a deep hollow rattle, sounding less and less like a man with every second.

 “You’re okay, baby, it’s okay. Shhh, Harry, it’s okay,” Louis whispers, quiet enough that only Harry should be able to hear him, rubbing over the man’s scruffy cheeks. Harry’s eyes flit back and forth from Louis to Niall, then stick on Louis.

 Louis murmurs to him, walking them back slowly, as Harry’s breathing slows.

 Harry falls, suddenly, eyes rolling back into his head. Louis barely manages to catch him under the armpits, letting out a little hiss of shock. Zayn and Niall are at his side in an instant, and they help him ease the unconscious wolf to the floor.

 Niall barks out a loud laugh, and Zayn and Louis’s eyes snap to him in shock.

 “He’s always so fucking dramatic, isn’t he? Been that way since we were kids. He ended up in the perfect profession.” Niall laughs again, shaking his head. “This is like, the most extreme werewolf tantrum I’ve ever seen. His mum and sister are furious at him, but I don’t think he could control it. Not like he was trying too hard, though.” He pats Harry’s leg. Louis sees red for a second, then scolds himself.

 Zayn and Louis share a glance. Louis’s hands are shaking. He wants to scoop Harry up in his arms and run into the woods where no one could ever hurt him again.

 They haul the unconscious wolf into the living room. Louis tucks him in on the couch where he lays limp, breathing deeply.

 “So you know. You know what he is, and why he’s like this now.” Zayn’s voice is a little stern, like he’s scolding Niall for being so blasé when Louis is so obviously upset. Niall nods easily, shrugging.

 “He’s been suppressing his changes for the past like, year or so. Ever since he started touring around this time last year. He got some fancy doctor to do it, they’ve been testing a drug that keeps a werewolf human during the full moon. Harry’s been taking it for a while. I’m guessing it stopped working yesterday.”

 Niall shakes his head. Louis is aghast. He has never heard of werewolves suppressing their changes. Changing and becoming a wolf at the full moon, running and hunting and playing, is one of the best feelings in the entire world. It’s one of Louis’s favorite things, feeling so connected to nature, being able to hear and understand the way the world works, to be at home in the forest. To hear that Harry, his Alpha, has denied himself that pleasure sends fierce pain through his chest.

 “Why did he do it? Just for the sake of the tour?” Louis speaks up.

 “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know how you do it, Zayn, but touring while having to take a break once a month to run around secretly as a wolf doesn’t really work. Harry’s always just wanted to be normal.”

  _Normal._ Human. Not like Louis and Zayn.

 “I don’t have a problem with tour dates. I’m not a werewolf.” Zayn sounds irritated, his mouth in a thin line.

 “Oh,” Niall looks confused. “But you are, yeah?” He asks, scrunching his brow, nodding at Louis. “Wolfy Harry seemed to really love you, I’m glad. He’s never liked other werewolves, ‘sides his family.”It’s a pretty rude question, but Louis finds himself unbothered by it. Niall is an open book, and Louis, who knows a thing or two about lacking a brain to mouth filter, is finding it difficult to hold that quality against him. 

 Louis swallows, nods. “Yeah, I’m…yeah. I’ve never been around other werewolves, either.” He looks to Zayn for help, not quite ready to fess up to this stranger what’s actually going on with him and Harry.

 “So what happens now?” Zayn asks, and Louis wishes he would have asked anything else.

 “I dunno. I’ll shove some clothes on him, haul him into the car, let him detox in his house, keep him from runnin’ round buck naked in front of the paps.”

 Zayn stares at him incredulously. “You, a human, are in no way equipped to deal with a feral werewolf. Louis is the only reason he didn’t change just now and rip your throat out, childhood friend or not. Also, his house is in London, yeah? Really fucking bad place for a werewolf to be running round.”

 “Listen, Harry’s been my mate since we were kids, there’s no way he would hurt me. And I thought you said you aren’t a werewolf, how are you going to stop him if he freaks out again?”

 “I’m a vampire,” Zayn replies a little shortly, “and Louis is a werewolf who Harry has already accepted into his pack. You are welcome to stay in a guest room to keep an eye on him, but I cannot let you take him when you can’t control him.” Zayn’s voice is actually more hostile than Louis has ever heard it, and he’s dumbfounded.

 He can’t imagine why this young, Irish human would rub him so wrong. Louis doesn’t attend many events with Zayn, he’s not in the in the music industry and he would much rather be outdoors or in a club than a fancy movie premiere, but the few he has attended have revealed a patience in Zayn that Louis has never witnessed in anyone. He’d seen Zayn calmly maneuver around extremely rude, personal questions from paps, screaming fans, stalkers, and incompetent interviewers with complete calm and dignity, but now, Zayn seems genuinely irritated. Louis is baffled.

 “Zayn just doesn’t want Harry to hurt himself, or anyone else. We can keep him here together, let his body balance itself out,” Louis says, gently, shooting Zayn a scolding look. Zayn frowns at him, his jaw taught.

 Niall watches them pensively, biting his lip.

 “I’d like to stay. D’ya have Fifa or should I drive back to me apartment and get my Xbox?” Immediately, the tension drains from the room, and Louis laughs, delighted.

 

* * *

 

They decide against Fifa, in the end, because Niall’s just flown over from LA doing some work for Harry’s label, and he’s dead tired. He borrows a pair of pajamas from Louis—Louis decidedly not remembering the clothing incident from that morning—and Louis helps him settle down in Zayn’s guest room. He feels a bit weird playing host in someone else’s house but it seemed rude not to, and Zayn is nowhere to be found. He seemed really upset earlier, and Louis is worried about him.

 “So you and Zayn are friends then. How did you two meet?” Niall asks, snooping around Zayn’s guest room while Louis dresses the bed.

 “I was working as a waiter, actually. Zayn came into the restaurant and I recognized him immediately. The dude’s got 27 million Twitter followers,” Louis smiles to himself at the memory, “I was expecting him to be really standoffish, and definitely wasn’t expecting him to be a vampire. First thing I did was take the piss out of him for being a vampire R&B artist. He thought it was funny, told me at least he wasn’t a werewolf waiter in a 24 hour diner.”

 Niall cackles at that, falling backward on the bed and clutching his belly. “That’s so great! Now that’s an origin story. Harry and I just had the same history class in middle school and he let some girls straighten his hair one time.”

 Niall’s eyes are drooping, but he’s still smiling winningly at Louis. He’s like a little ray of sunshine, and Louis is glad his Alpha has such a bright presence in his life.

 They say goodnight, and Louis pads downstairs to check on Harry. The man is still sleeping soundly, but it looks much more comfortable, now. He’s sprawled out on his belly, his arms tucked under a throw pillow, his face relaxed and open. Fondness creeps through Louis, and he kneels beside the couch, runs his hand through the wolf’s long hair. Harry stirs a bit, wiggling closer. Louis inhales his scent, almost overwhelmed by how good he smells.

 It takes an embarrassingly long time for Louis to detach himself from the couch to finally search for Zayn. He finds him on his balcony, smoking a cigarette and reading.

 “What was up with that earlier?” Louis snatches the cigarette from Zayn’s fingers without asking and takes a puff. Zayn grimaces at him.

 “I was being a dick,” Zayn sighs, running a hand through his hair, “I’m just…I’m very uncomfortable with what Styles—Harry—did to himself. I’m uncomfortable with this whole situation. He put innocent lives in danger for the sake of a tour schedule.” Zayn snatches his cigarette back.

 “I’ve never met Harry Styles before now, and I guess I still haven’t properly met him, but I can’t possibly understand his reasoning, there. And I was uncomfortable with the way Niall addressed the situation, like it isn’t as serious as it is. I’ll apologize to him later.”

 Louis scoots next to Zayn on the chair—there’s really no room for him, but there’s also _always_ room for him—and leans his head on his shoulder.

 “I don’t think Niall meant anything by it. He seems to love Harry.”

 Zayn nods, humming in agreement. He stares out at the line of trees for a moment, where the sun is casting pinks and oranges into the clouds, then he grins.

 “You seem to love Harry, too. Is it technically bestiality? ‘Cuz like, he’s got a wolf brain? Or was what happened to your neck earlier ethically okay ‘cuz he’s got a man’s body?”

 Louis spends the next few minutes attempting to twist Zayn’s nipples off while Zayn laughs at him so hard he cries a little.

 

* * *

 

Louis wakes up warm and comfortable with Harry’s erection digging into his belly. He’s sprawled across Harry on the couch, head snuggled against his chest, hands tucked under him to preserve warmth. The blanket he’d thrown over them last night is on the floor next to them. He’d love to do something about his Alpha’s morning wood, his body is on _fire_ and Harry is so warm and smells so sweet, but he’s hyperaware of Niall and Zayn’s presence in the house.

 He pulls the blanket back around them and wiggles so he’s between Harry and the back of the couch, wedged into his side.

 His heart stops when a scratchy, deep voice mutters, “What’s up? Niall?” And Harry sits up from the couch.

 Harry scrubs a hand through his hair, yawning widely and blinking rapidly. He turns to Louis, and their eyes meet.

 “Oh,” Harry says, quietly, and his face fills with a blush so vibrantly red Louis bursts into laughter.

 “Hi,” Louis smirks at him, watches his flush spread down his neck and chest. Harry covers his face with his massive hands.

 “How do you feel?” Louis asks, trying to wipe the grin from his face. He’d wondered what Harry was like as a man, prepared to say fuck it all to his biology if it turns out his Alpha’s a massive arse. He hadn’t expected his Alpha to be this… _cute._ Cute, with his biceps bulging, his long hair wild, his massive cock tenting the blanket. Louis swallows, scolds himself.

 “Umm. Dunno. My head feels fuzzy. I lost control for so long. I think I blacked out for part of it,” He glances at Louis through his fingers. “Christ,” he mutters, closing his eyes again.

 “What?” Louis asks, a bit nervous now. Harry’s body is stiff as a board.

 “Sorry, just a bit…wolf-brained. Um, your neck—“ Harry lets out a shuddery breath.

 “What about it?” Louis asks innocently, subtly tilting his head to the side to reveal the fading mark Harry’d left in the shower yesterday. Harry reaches out and touches it, as if in a trance. Louis swells with pride, glowing. His Alpha approves of him, wants him, marked him up so everyone knows who he belongs to. He nuzzles into Harry’s hand, hears the man take in a shocked breath.

 “What’s…what is this? What’s happening?” Harry asks, sounding a bit panicked. Louis pulls away, confused.

 “What d’you mean? Niall said you took something to suppress your changes and it stopped working.”

 “No—that—that was—I mean, with you—“ His hand is hovering in the air by Louis’s face, like he’d like to keep touching him but is unsure if he’s allowed.

 “Oh, that. I don’t know, to be honest. Zayn says you’re my Alpha.”

 Harry snatches his hand back, eyes wide. “Oh, shit.”

 A cold dread is building in Louis’s chest. He hadn’t allowed himself to address this scenario in his head. He tucks his chin to his chest, face burning, hiding his throat.

 “Oh god,” Harry groans, pushing his hair out of his face and stumbling shakily to his feet. He trips towards the door, groping for the wall.

 “Where’re you going?” Louis croaks, panicking now.

 “I’ve gotta find Niall. I’ve got to get back to London. Shit. Sorry, um,” Harry tucks the blanket around his waist like a skirt, “Louis, I just, I wasn’t expecting this to happen, I can’t—“ His breathing’s a little quick, his face scrunched in horror.

 Louis pulls his knees to his chest. He wants to scream at Harry, force him to come back and bite him again, kiss him, hold him and tell him how good he is. But he understands what Harry’s going through. He’d gone under as a wolf and come back with a mate he hadn’t wanted or expected. Louis is quite suddenly horribly guilty. He was the only one clarity in his actions. Harry hadn’t had a choice. 

 Louis closes his eyes against the sting of them, feeling unmoored. He just needs Harry to leave so he can get the smell of him out of his head, so he can wait until the marks fully fade and he can forget about the ridiculous things his body’s making him feel.

 “Harry! You fucker! Are you okay?” Niall bursts into the room, the wide, bright grin on his face falling at odds with the absolute desolation between the two werewolves.

 Harry laughs a little bleakly, shakily, eyes flitting back toward Louis, and Louis closes his eyes again.

 “I’m okay, I think. I think it’s completely out of my system. I’m surprised it didn’t last longer, I’ve been taking those pills since…Last summer? God, a little over a year.”

 Louis feels Zayn step into the room, his presence preceding even his scent.

 Zayn’s eyes are narrowed, boring into Harry, then Louis. Louis stares back at him helplessly. He fixes Harry with a hard look. Louis doesn’t like it, every instinct in him screaming to protect Harry from Zayn, but he’s also pissed at Harry and hopes Zayn dangles him off the top floor balcony.

 “Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Zayn Malik. You’re okay? Good. I’m glad. Half of the woodland creatures who live on my property, however, are not so good. You didn’t even eat them, just tore them to shreds. Found probably fifty carcasses last night when I was out hunting,” Zayn’s voice is low, calm. Harry’s shrinking in on himself, his eyes wide. Niall’s face is turning redder and redder by the second.

 “Zayn—“ Louis croaks from the couch, but Zayn just continues, “There’s a village not ten miles from here. Really small town, mostly vacant at night because people mostly live on farms around here. I wonder how they’re all doing?” It’s vicious, and Niall looks about ready to punch Zayn in the face.

 Harry’s staring at Zayn, and to Louis’s horror, there are tears in his eyes.

 “Stop it. Stop,” Louis snaps, scrambling up from the couch and over to Zayn. He gets a grip on the neck of Zayn’s shirt and his arm. “Come on, let’s go outside and smoke.” Zayn resists, and Louis growls at him.

 Louis drags him through the threshold of the door. “Be back in a mo’.” He calls after them, yanking Zayn out the front door and onto the porch. Zayn rounds on him the second they step outside.

 “What I said was completely warranted, Louis, and you know it. I wasn’t lying about the carcasses. Nobody in town was hurt, I checked the second we got him here, but what he did was seriously _fucked up.”_

 Louis sighs, feels a bit like crying himself.

 “I know, he made a mistake. But Zayn, he could not have possibly known this would happen to him. He’s wealthy, probably as wealthy as you, and he probably trusted whatever bullshit his fancy rich people doctor was feeding him.”

 “All the more reason for me have a go at him. He’s ashamed of what he is, of what we are, and he didn’t give a fuck about the consequences of his actions.”

 Louis really wishes he had a smoke.

 “I don’t know about all that, Zayn. You didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself. All we know is a secondhand story from his friend _a human,_ ” Louis reminds him.

 “Why are you defending him? I know what I walked into, Louis, I could see it on your face. He rejected you. Because he’s a fucking prick.”

 Heart hammering, Louis bursts out, “No, I’m the fucking prick,” He laughs without humor, throat dry, ”I let him do whatever he wanted as a wolf because I liked the attention, felt like I couldn’t control myself. But he _actually_ couldn’t control himself. I’m…” He can’t breathe suddenly. He wants his Alpha. He’s been terrible. He should be ashamed of himself for everything he’s done. He’s bad. He’s bad for his Alpha.

 “Babes, calm down.” Zayn pulls him close tucks Louis’s head under his chin. Louis swallows against his tears, shaking, panting a little. “It’s alright, Lou. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be this upset. God, this werewolf biology really fucks with you. I’ve never seen you like this.” He pets Louis’s hair, and it feels like when his mum used to do it, it’s good, it’s soothing, but it’s not enough. He didn’t know then that he was waiting for his Alpha.

 “You can’t help it as much as he can’t help it. It’s gonna be okay, babes. Let’s go back in, I’ll stop lecturing him.”

 Louis breathes out, shuddery, against the wet spot on Zayn’s shirt. “I could help it, though. I just didn’t want to.”

 Zayn squeezes him tight. “Is there much distinction between those things, though? Styles was still himself, just a part of himself, the part that still couldn’t look away from you for too long even when I was describing his murder of a family of bunnies.”

 Louis laughs and thumps a fist on Zayn’s chest.

 Louis follows Zayn back into the house, wiping his eyes with shaking hands. Harry and Niall are in the living room. Harry’s fully clothed in a t-shirt and skinny jeans, and he’s pulling a boot onto his right foot. He and Niall are talking quietly, heatedly, and fall silent when Zayn and Louis step into the room. Niall stands up fast, eyes dark, mouth twisted down.

 “That was real fuckin’ harsh, you know? You’ve been rude to me and Harry ever since we got here, not like either of us wanted any of this to fuckin’ happen—“

 “I know, I’m sorry,” Zayn says quietly. “I was being harsh. I was rude to you last night. Harry, I do think what you did was irresponsible, but it’s not my place to scold you. I’m sorry.”

 Louis sees him peer at them both from under his lashes, his hands folded in front of them, a serious look on his face. Louis almost rolls his eyes. Zayn knows exactly what he looks like when he acts like this. Niall backs down a bit, still frowning.

 “We’re leaving. Thank you for your hospitality,” Niall says coldly. Harry’s eyes are on the ground, a little bloodshot. He picks up Niall’s backpack and swings it over his shoulder. Louis’s chest burns hot for a second, like he’s downed a cup of tea before it was cool enough. Harry’s eyes snap to him, and their gazes meet. _Don’t go. Please don’t go. I’m so sorry._

 Harry looks away.

 “It was nice meeting you two, bye,” Louis mutters, and he rushes from the room, his stomach rolling. He sprints up the stairs and locks the door to his room, he flings himself onto the bed, buries his face in the pillow that smells like Harry. He has to leave. He’d told Zayn he’d stay for the month to keep him company during his break, but he can’t. He can’t stay here.

 There’s a knock on his door.

 Louis pulls his covers over himself and hides. There’s another knock, then Louis hears the door creak open, shut again.

 “Um, Louis?” It’s Harry’s deep voice that calls to him. Louis peaks out from under the covers.

 “Yeah?”

 “Sorry, I couldn’t leave without, um… apologizing to you.” Harry bites his lip, staring at his hands.

 “Nothing to apologize for, mate, I get it.” Louis says nonchalantly. He does get it. He understands why Harry doesn’t want him.

 “No I need to apologize. I’ve got too.”

 He takes a deep breath before Louis can interrupt him again.

 “I’m sorry I took advantage of you,” Harry says in a rush, his face scrunched up in hurt, “I’ve met Omegas before and I’ve always been able to control myself, but with the pills and my own fucking stupidity I went and bonded us and I’m sorry, I didn’t even give you a choice or ask you, I fucked everything up.” His lips are trembling a bit, like he’s going to cry.

 Louis is thoroughly, wholly confused, and a little bit of hope is blossoming in his chest.

 “Um, what’s an Omega, exactly?”

 Harry looks startled. “What?”

 “What do you mean, you’ve met Omegas before? What does that have to do with me?” He swallows around his constricting throat.

 “You’re…you’re an Omega. I mean, do you not…How do you not know? Didn’t your parents tell you?”

 “My mum’s a human. My dad was a werewolf, fucked off before I was born.”

 “Oh,” breathes Harry, wide-eyed. “God, that’s even worse. You didn’t even understand what I was doing and I—I’m so sorry Louis, I should just leave, it’ll be better if I—“

 Louis growls, cutting him off sharply. “How do you reckon that you took advantage of me? You weren’t in your right mind, and I was. I wasn’t exactly telling you to stop.”

 “But you’re an _Omega,_ ” Harry whines like that explains everything.

 “What does that _mean_?” Louis snaps. “Like for werewolves? What does that mean? I don’t have a pack. Never have.”

 “Doesn’t matter. It’s like…it’s almost like a gender, but not quite. Haven’t you, um…” Harry’s face reddens, “Haven’t you had a heat? Or like…um…” He groans, covers his face with his big hands. Louis narrows his eyes at him.

 “You came all over my favorite Guns N’ Roses shirt, earlier, so I think we’re a little past modesty, Harry.”

 “Oh my god, shut up,” Harry whimpers, laughing a little breathlessly. Louis rolls his eyes.

 “So I’m supposed to go into heat or something? Like a cat?”

 “Um…yeah around when you hit puberty. I think they’re once a month? My family’s all betas besides me so I don’t know the specifics.”

 Louis frowns at him. “I’m not an Omega, then. I’ve never had a heat.”

 “Trust me, you’re an Omega, you smell—“ He cuts himself off, blushing even brighter. “Your instincts were telling you to submit to me, anything I wanted, and I knew that. You couldn’t have resisted me, especially not after I took those stupid fucking pills and put you and everyone else in danger.”

 A fierce protectiveness billows in Louis’s chest. “You didn’t know what those pills would do to you. Nobody got hurt, either.”

 Harry shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. “No, but I didn’t really care. I was just focussed on touring and working and how inconvenient it was to schedule around the moon. I was selfish. And now I’ve fucked up your life as well.”

 “What’s fucked up about it?” Louis glares at him, crossing his arms.

 “We don’t even know each other!”

 “So what? You want me to find some other Alpha and let him take care of me?” Louis snaps.

 Harry starts, his fists clenching at his sides. Louis admires the way the muscles in his arm tense and flex. “I don’t care. I only met you today.”

 But Louis sees the way his nostrils flare, the way his lips turn down at the edges like the idea is making him sick.

 “Oh. Well, then, have a nice time in London. Zayn’s got plenty of werewolf friends he can introduce me to.” It’s a lie, Louis can count Zayn’s friends on one hand, and he’s the only werewolf, but the statement agitates Harry even further. Louis plucks his phone from the bedside table and opens Twitter, scrolls through his feed. The tension builds in the room, and Louis isn’t actually reading any tweets. He can see Harry standing frozen out of the corner of his eye.

 “You’re not going to do that,” he says quietly, lowly. Louis snorts, doesn’t look at him, “I just found out I’m an Omega, didn’t I? I’m going to need someone to take care of me, especially since I’m apparently going to have a heat soon.”

 It’s so, so good, exactly what he wanted, when Harry crosses the room and lunges at him, flips him onto his belly, and pins him down by the scruff of his neck.

 “You’re mine. You’re my Omega.” He grinds his clothed erection against Louis’s arse, squeezing his neck in a way that makes Louis’s entire body relax. “I’m the only one who can take care of you.”

 “I’m not,” Louis mutters into the pillow, his voice shot. He turns his head and gasps some breaths of fresh air. Harry leans down and bites at his ear.

 “Keep telling yourself that, baby, but I can smell how wet you are for me.”

 Harry’s hand crawls down his body and down the back of his pants. Louis squirms, trying to buck him off. Harry growls loud in his ear and Louis is gasping, whining, because Harry’s fingers are rubbing at his hole and he’s _wet_ with what he had thought was sweat, but he’s so _slick_ and Harry’s fingers are just sliding against him, and he’s so sensitive.

 Suddenly, Harry yanks his hand out of his trousers and scrambles off the bed, breathing hard. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He shakes head blinking rapidly, backing away from the bed. Louis stares at the hard line of his cock in his tight jeans. He rolls over onto his back, baring his belly and bruised neck.

 “Harry,” he says quietly. He wants to tell him he’s being a fucking idiot, but he’s so warm and everything’s so soft. He nuzzles the pillow. “Want you.”

 Harry bites at his own knuckles, and Louis remembers where they’ve been, his Alpha’s tasting him.

 “Alpha,” he pleads, and it comes out as a sigh. Harry reacts like Louis’s just yanked a leash, crawling over him, cupping his face in both of his hands. “Louis, you okay?” He looks concerned, but he’s staring at Louis’s mouth with a taught jaw.

 “Yeah, Harry,” Louis says quietly. He presses a kiss to Harry’s thumb. “M’okay. I feel good.” Harry’s thumb traces his lips, and Louis parts them to let him inside. “Fuck,” Harry whispers, pupils blown.

 “Don’t leave me,” Louis begs, before he can stop himself. “No baby, I won’t, I won’t,” Harry assures. He leans down and kisses Louis, for the first time, as himself. It’s good. Louis could let himself be kissed like this for hours, Harry’s being so gentle, so sweet, lapping into his mouth and sucking on his lips, carding his fingers through his hair. Louis can’t do anything but lie limp and kiss him back, his fingers burrowed in Harry’s shirt. Harry slowly slots their hips together, but doesn’t move, just kisses him slowly, teasing him with his big cock against Louis’s groin.

 Louis worms his hand down between their bodies and gives his cock a squeeze. Harry gasps into his mouth, but grabs his wrist and pulls him away. Louis frowns at him. “Don’t have to do that, Louis. We can take it slow,” Harry assures, and a burst of irritation floods through Louis’s submission.

 “Want to,” Louis says stubbornly, and Harry catches his free hand as he attempts to reach for him again. “No, Louis,” Harry says sternly, pinning both of his wrists above his head. Louis melts. “Okay, Alpha,” he agrees, closing his eyes. He’ll do anything Harry asks. Harry’s so warm and smells so good, and he’s holding him down because he wants him, wants to take care of him. “Fuck, baby,” Harry’s voice is hoarse, and they’re kissing again, a little rougher this time. Louis is happily reminded of the first time, when Harry’d bitten him all over until his mouth was smarting and his face was on fire. Harry’s much more in control, just nibbling at his lips and pressing kisses into his jaw.

 He pulls back, squeezing Louis’s wrists gently with one hand, stroking his face with the other. “We’re gonna stop now, okay Lou? I’ve gotta make a few phone calls and talk to Niall. I’m not gonna leave you,” he assures, and Louis will literally agree to anything he says because he’s _big_ and he’s pressing down on him so nice and his hair is tickling Louis’s neck.

 “Okay Harry,” Louis agrees quietly, smiling. Harry kisses Louis’s forehead. “Thank you, my good boy,” he murmurs, and Louis is so happy he could cry. He doesn’t, even when Harry rolls off of him and leaves the room, he just grins, burying himself in the scent of his mate, grinning wider when he hears Niall’s loud, shocked exclamations from down the hall.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Louis finds life a lot easier to deal with when he’s got Harry’s warm hand under his shirt, smoothing over the small of his back. Zayn’s pouting, trying not to look like he’s pouting, on his favorite armchair. They’re in the game room, and Niall is kicking Louis’ arse at Fifa.

Harry won’t be staying in Zayn’s summer house in the woods. Louis had growled and spat and fought Niall about it, but after hearing the sheer amount of work Harry had scheduled for the month, it was simply impossible for him to take a sabbatical in the middle of nowhere. Which means Louis is not going to be keeping Zayn company on his break, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to detach himself from Harry’s side.

Louis keeps glancing at Zayn out of the corner of his eye. Zayn’s curled up in the armchair, head on his hand, staring at some point above the TV. Louis sighs and throws his remote across the room, he was losing anyway, and bounds over to him. He lunges into Zayn’s lap and squeezes the vampire’s head tightly to his chest.

“Ouch, jesus christ, you’re crushing my skull,” comes Zayn’s muffled yell somewhere in Louis’s bosom. “Shut up, I’m showing you love and support,” Louis assures, squeezing tighter.

Niall cackles loudly. “Help,” Zayn wails again, and he actually _bites through_ Louis’s shirt, his fangs extended.

“Oh, that’s it, you fucking bastard.”

They end up on the floor, Louis straddling Zayn’s chest, his fingers shoved up Zayn’s nose whilst tears stream down Zayn’s red, laughing face. “Stop, stop,” he chokes, his head thrashing from side to side. Louis chases his mouth with his fingers. “No Zayn, you’re going to eat your own bogeys,” he says darkly.

Niall tackles him suddenly from the side, knocking him off Zayn. Louis growls rolling with Niall’s weight pinning him down. “Let’s make him eat our bogeys, Zayn,” Niall suggests.

“Oi, get off my boy,” Harry grouses from the couch. When Louis glances at him, he doesn’t look very amused by their game. His hand is clenched on the arm of the couch, the veins in his forearm bulging with the tension.

Zayn’s panting, recovering from his giggles, rubbing at his eyes. He locks eye with Louis and raises an eyebrow. Louis shoots him a look, and he smirks, turning to look at Niall.

“Thanks Niall,” he says quietly, with a charming little grin, and to Louis’s _delight,_ Niall’s face reddens in a little blush. Louis shoves his feet into Niall’s chest and knocks him sideways. He crawls to Zayn and wraps and arm around his shoulders. “Stop pouting. I’ll FaceTime you every second I’m away. And I’ll Snapchat you. And I’ll text you. All at the same time.” The side hug quickly turns into a head lock, but Louis doesn’t let the wrestling match go on for too long because the tension radiating from Harry is building on itself, palpable in the back of Louis’ mind.

He sprints over to Harry and throws himself across his lap. The man is stiff as a board, mouth tight with displeasure. His fingers immediately dig into the holes in Louis’ shirt where Zayn’s teeth have sunk through, worrying the skin as if checking to make sure he didn’t actually mark him.

“You alright?” Louis whispers, curling his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry’s scent is heavy, like it was when Louis first met him, when he was feral. He nuzzles under Harry’s jaw.

Niall and Zayn have picked up the Fifa game where Louis and Niall had left off, but Zayn’s shooting Louis little glances out of the corner of his eye. He’s smart and ridiculously good at all video games. He’d gotten Louis’s controller and had already brought his score up to tie with Niall. Zayn jerks his head at Louis and Harry, and then to the door.

“You’d better pack, bro, you’ve got a lot of shit to bring with you.” Thank god for Zayn.

“Come help,” Louis demands, yanking the tense wolf to his feet.

“No funny business, please, this room is way too close to your room,” Niall says without looking away from the TV, one hand reaching out to smack at Zayn’s controller to distract him. Louis flips them off and drags Harry to his room, shutting them inside.

“I don’t like it,” Harry blurts out as soon as they’re alone, his voice rough and a little less than human. His eyes are dark. Louis frowns at him.

“What?”

“I don’t like Zayn. You and Zayn. I don’t like it.”

Louis stares at him.

“What about me and Zayn?”

Harry’s lips curl down in a grimace. “You know what. He’s in love with you. He’s always touching you. I’m your mate. He needs to back off.”

Louis barks out a laugh, completely bewildered. “Zayn is _not_ in love with me, you fucking idiot. He’s my best friend, same as you and Niall.”

“Niall and I don’t do that. I wouldn’t touch Niall like that.” Harry clenches his fists then extends his fingers, and Louis sees his nails have extended into claws. 

“Harry, I’m not attracted to Zayn.” _I’m attracted to you,_ he hopes that implies, his face burning.

“He’s attracted to you, though, even though he knows I’m your mate. That’s why he doesn’t want you to come with me,” Harry growls stubbornly. Then, suddenly, like a massive balloon, he deflates, his shoulders slumping forward. “Maybe…Maybe you should stay. With him. We barely know each other. I’ve only known you a few days and I’m completely fucking up your life.”

God, he’s cute. He’s big and cute and swaying from side to side, so distraught he looks like he might cry over Louis trying to feed Zayn his own boogers. Louis wants to punch him right in his cute little face.

“You’re really an idiot,” Louis says, and it doesn’t come out quite as mean as he wants it to. It sounds fond. Harry flinches a little, though, his lower lip jutting out.

“Don’t fucking—don’t just say that, I mean it, I really think—“

“You’ve got to stop thinking about this like a human relationship. You’re not a human. I’m not a human. Yeah, we don’t know that much about each other, but we’re mates. I don’t want anybody else but you just like you don’t want anybody else but me. I even knew it when you were covered in bunny blood and trying to tear my head off.” Louis is blushing fiercely by the end of it, he _hates_ talking about his feelings, but he couldn’t stand that look on his big sweet Alpha’s face.

Harry’s lips twitch, then he smiles, his dimple poking into his cheek. He shuffles forward and ducks down to plant his face in Louis’s neck, nearly knocking him over with the weight of his full body.

“So you don’t want to stay here?” His full lips tickle Louis’s sensitive neck, and he shivers a little bit.

“Nah, I’m tired of fucking Zayn all the time, I need to try somebody knew.” 

The bite he gets for that comment is totally, totally worth it.

 

* * *

Louis is slumped on a squeaky, uncomfortable, fancy leather sofa. He’s got his head on Niall’s shoulder, watching him scroll through his Twitter feed and reply to his many adoring fans. Harry’s fans love Niall, as they should, anyone who meets Niall adores Niall.

He’s so fucking bored.

The goodbye with Zayn had been yesterday. The vampire had pouted the entire morning while Louis threw all of his shit into bags at the last possible minute. He’d made them all a sad, beautiful little breakfast, and Louis had attached himself to him like a leech for hours to make up for leaving him all alone in the house. Harry squeezed his mug so hard it cracked a little, but Louis made up for touching Zayn so much by sitting on his lap in the car and rubbing against him until he forced him to stop.

Harry’s in interviews all day, and Louis had tried, actually, to stay in Harry’s apartment and do fuck all for the day. Harry had dressed and left, kissing Louis goodbye. Ten minutes later he was running back through the front door, disheveled and stressed. Louis had leapt into his arms, his entire body shivering, and Harry was an entire hour late to his first interview because he had to spend it with his nose buried in Louis’s neck.

He’s too far, even now. Niall and Louis are in the waiting room, and Louis can sort of hear the murmur of Harry’s deep voice under the crack in the door.

Louis’s phone pings with a notification. Zayn’s texted him and tweeted about him. And snap-chatted him.

“Oh jesus christ,” Louis sighs. He hates it when Zayn tweets about him. Too many of Zayn’s fans already know who Louis is, he’d actually been recognized once at a Tesco. Louis has no desire to be famous for being friends with a famous person. Gross.

Louis texts Zayn a string of curses and emojis, scolding him for his tweet, a very drunk picture of him and Louis with the caption “missing my boy”. Niall giggles, watching him from over his shoulder.

Finally, Harry walks through the door. He can hear the bustling of the crew putting away equipment to wrap up the taping as the door squeaks shut. Harry beams at them both, seeming energized and bright. His shoulders are squared, and his dimple is in full force. Louis lets his gaze sweep Harry’s body. The boy dresses absolutely ridiculously, but god, he looks so fucking good all the time. He’s wearing a button up unbuttoned to his sternum, showing off his butterfly tattoo, and skin tight black jeans. Louis definitely likes his jeans. And his smell. And his hair.

Louis opens his arms and Harry obliges, tucking himself in his grasp. He buries his nose in Harry’s neck, drinking in the smell of him. He smells like home. Muscles that Louis didn’t even realize where tense relax. He’s boneless against Harry. Niall makes a gagging noise.

“Don’t be jealous, Niall, you’re welcome to join in any time,” Louis declares, batting his eyelashes at him.

“No he’s not,” Harry supplies, tucking his hand into Louis’s back pocket.

The next interview is a half an hour away. Harry drives, Niall pouts in the back, he’d lost the intense wrestling match for shotgun. Louis wasn’t going to let Niall sit in the front. How was he supposed to hold Harry’s hand and smell his wrist from the back? Not going to happen.

The next interview is even longer. Louis and Niall dick around with Harry’s team for the duration, Harry’s stylist fluffs up Louis’s hair into a style he actually thinks suits him, and she lets him braid hers.

“How d’you do purple hair? Do they sell purple hair dye?” Niall asks, watching Louis twist her braids on top of her head.

Louis and Lou both shoot him an incredulous look. “You’ve never heard of purple hair dye, Niall? How did you think they do it?”

“I dunno, didn’t really think about it, to be honest.” Niall shrugs.

The interview lasts another _hour,_ and Louis is jumping out of his skin. He needs Harry, the waiting room is much farther away this time, and the scent of him has worn off of the shoulder of Louis’s t-shirt. It’s too industrial, too enclosed. He misses the woods around Zayn’s house. He misses his Alpha.

Niall makes him a cup of tea and pets him. He feels a little better.

“Harry’ll be done in a minute, I think. They want to take some pictures of him first.”

Louis nods.

“It’s weird, I was pretty nervous about you at first, like I didn’t really understand what Harry meant when he said you were mates, but I get it now. You like…complete each other.”

Louis glances around the room, none of the crew seems to be listening, and Niall is speaking pretty quietly. Niall is the only one who knows Harry’s not human.

“Yeah, I didn’t really understand it either. Still don’t, to be honest,” Louis murmurs.

Niall’s smiling brightly at him, still petting at Louis’s upper back. “You make him really happy. I like seeing him like that. He’s always been pretty uncomfortable with what he is. You kind of validate that his biology is natural. It’s a part of him. I’ve always wanted that for him.”

Niall is way, way too honest. Louis is blushing vibrantly. He punches Niall hard in the arm. Niall cackles.

 

* * *

Louis is thoroughly irritated.

Well, he’s not irritated. Frustrated would be a more appropriate word. He’s frustrated. His Alpha’s being stubborn and ridiculous, traits that Louis has come to expect from him, but it’s still frustrating.

Louis really, really wants Harry to fuck him, and Harry is obstinately not fucking him. Louis has just discovered his arse is biologically meant to be played with (it explains a lot, if he’s being honest) and Harry won’t even finger him a little bit. No matter how many times Louis bares his neck, wiggles on Harry’s lap, bites his jaw, wanders around Harry’s flat naked, Harry will not do anything more than blush and flee the scene.

Louis almost misses his feral Alpha, the one who’d left bruises and raised scabs on his neck, the one who’d fucked his hand and come all over Louis. Louis’d jerked off to the incident in Harry’s bed, one day (Harry had shown him the guest room, he’d looked at it, laughed, and never gone in it again). He’d left the bed smelling like him, not changing the sheets, he didn’t know where Harry kept his spare linens anyway. That night Harry had been exhausted from a long photoshoot. He’d crawled into bed behind Louis, gasped, panted against his neck, grazed his teeth against him. Louis had been so, so sure that Harry was going to finally give in and fuck him, but Harry had just squeezed him tight, shuddering, and fallen asleep.

“You haven’t had sex yet?” Zayn’s eyes are wide, bewildered. He’s in bed from what Louis can tell, his hoodie pulled up over his head.

“No, not any kind of sex. The most action I’ve gotten so far was when Niall smacked my arse the other day and Harry wouldn’t take his hand off of it for an hour afterward,” Louis moans.

“Why don’t you just talk to Harry about it?”

“I’ve tried, actually! He just changes the subject!”

It’s not exactly an accurate representation of events. He and Harry had been cuddling on the couch, one of Harry’s hands on his belly under his shirt, the other laced with Louis’s.

“Alpha,” Louis had started, sweetly, immediately feeling Harry’s body tense beneath him, “want you,” He’d rocked his body back into Harry’s crotch and turned to kiss his slack mouth, open with shock.

Harry had stood up, abruptly, erection tenting his sweat pants, his forehead a little shiny with sweat.

“I’ve gotta call my sister. Be back in a moment,” He’d scrambled from the room.

Louis glared at where Harry had been sitting. He’d left his fucking phone on the side table.

“Zayn, sorry if this is too much information, but if Harry doesn’t put something in my arse soon I might die. I might literally die,”

Zayn grimaces and hangs up on him.

 

* * *

Louis is a little bit drunk. He’s on the tipping point, he knows if he drinks another beer he’s going to cross over into “hammered” territory. He always gets drunk at rich people events, they’ve got loads of free booze and also they’re fucking awkward. Everybody knows everybody and nobody knows who he is.

Zayn, the little arsehole, had been invited to this event, actually begged to come by the younger vampires in the industry who pretty much worshipped him (if only they knew what a little fucker he really was), but had declined. Harry, Prince Pop Star, had eagerly accepted on behalf of himself and Louis.

Louis glares at Harry. He’s talking to a beautiful blonde model, Louis doesn’t remember her name but he’d looked through her Instagram before, and he looks so fucking fit. Harry shouldn’t be allowed to look like that and not be fucking him. Harry’s on his first long island iced tea, looking radiant in a YSL top, characteristically unbuttoned, hair flowing around his pretty face. Niall’s shitfaced across the room, Louis can see the top of his spiky blonde hair.

Louis catches Harry’s eye and jerks his head towards the bar. Harry smiles at him, dimple-y and sweet. The bastard.

Louis pushes his way to the bar and orders himself a water. He’s decided to not get pissed and embarrass Harry. If he’d come with Zayn he’d be happy embarrassing him, but it’s Harry so… Fuck his life.

A werewolf steps up next to him at the bar, a respectful distance away, but the strong smell of him sets Louis immediately on edge. He turns to face him, wide-eyed. The man’s handsome, smiling a little nervously, one tattooed hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Hi, um, you’re Louis Tomlinson, aren’t you?”

Louis swallows, nods stupidly. He’d definitely not expected to meet a werewolf here. Vampires are crawling all over the entertainment industry, they love luxury and attention and know how to get it, but werewolves usually prefer a quieter lifestyle.

The wolf laughs shakily, then grimaces a little. “Yeah, um, I’m Liam. Liam Payne.”

Louis definitely should have ordered another drink.

“You’re not…You’re not Zayn’s Liam?”

Liam flinches. “Yeah, I guess thats. That’s me.” He’s got a kind face, and he looks distressed, like he’s expecting Louis to punch him in the face. Louis does consider it, for a moment.

“Huh,” Louis says, fixing Liam with the bitchiest look he can muster. He sips his water.

“Sorry, I um, I’ve seen you before. On Zayn’s Twitter. His fans really like you. I didn’t realize you were a werewolf.”

He whispers the last part. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, like he’s protecting himself from Louis’s gaze. Louis raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry, I just…I know I don’t have the right to talk to you or look at Zayn’s Twitter or even think about Zayn but…I just wanted to ask you how he is? Like is he doing okay?”

Okay, Liam’s got tears in his eyes and he’s staring at the ground and even Louis isn’t that heartless.

“Yeah, he’s good. Don’t worry about it, man. He’s not mad at you, either. You should call him sometime. He misses you.”

Liam stares at him, wide-eyed, and to Louis’s horror, he begins to cry. Christ, hadn’t Zayn told him he’d met this man in the 70’s? Shouldn’t he not be such a god damn baby puppy?

“I miss him too,” he sobs.

“You’re just full of emotions, aren’t you?” Christ, Louis hopes that doesn’t make him cry more. He’s a little too pissed to be having this conversation. To his relief, Liam just laughs a little and swipes at his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting you to tell me to fuck off.”

“Still might do, if you keep crying at me.”

Liam giggles, his blotchy face scrunching up with his smile. He’s cute. He can see why Zayn would like him. Zayn and Louis are both attracted to kind-hearted people, being bitchy pessimists themselves.

“Do you really think I should call him, or would that upset him? I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have.”

Louis frowns.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? He’s only talked to me about you pretty vaguely. I could talk to him about it and see how he feels and then let you know.”

Liam looks like he’s going to start crying again. “Seriously, would you? Thank you so much. I know I don’t deserve this,” he whispers, croaky.

“Okay, okay. Give me your phone.”

Louis types his phone number into Liam’s phone and texts himself. As he locks it, he catches a glimpse of the lock screen, a picture of Liam and a beautiful brunette girl, grinning at the camera.

“Is that your mate?”

Liam smiles fondly at the picture. “Yeah, she is,” he says a little bashfully. Louis knows that look. He’s felt that before. He can’t help but smile.

Suddenly, Harry’s scent is heavy in the hair, Harry’s hands are on his hips, and he’s crowded from behind. Harry is snarling _loudly_ , loudly enough that Louis spins around and claps a hand over his mouth.

“Harry, what the fuck—“ He cuts himself off. Harry’s eyes are pitch black.

Liam is frozen, his nostrils flared, his body on the defense. “Is this _your_ mate?”

“Yes, this massive idiot is my mate,” Louis bites out. Harry’s hands are hurting and bruising on his hips and it’s making him _wet._ God, he hopes Liam can’t smell that.

“I’ll text you, okay? Harry and I need to get going, right Harry?”

Harry’s looking even more furious, even more feral. Shit. Louis drags him away, he’s got to hide him, they’re in a room full of Harry’s peers and there are photographers everywhere outside. He finds a bathroom and yanks Harry inside.

It’s empty, thank God. Harry’s growling, low and ferocious, his eyes snapping toward the door like he’d like nothing more than to bolt.

“Harry, baby, what’s wrong? You need to calm down.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Harry snarls.

“Who, Liam? He’s Zayn’s ex, Harry, he was asking me about Zayn,” He cups the side of Harry’s face, and Harry flinches.

“He’s an Alpha. He wanted you. I saw him. I saw how he was looking at you,” suddenly, Louis is hit by the full force of Harry’s attention. Harry crowds him against the bathroom door and bites Louis _hard_ on the throat. Louis goes limp, and everything is hazy and wonderful.

“Harry,” Louis mumbles. “You’re my Alpha.”

Harry lets out another snarl, his hips rocking hard into Louis. Louis is finally going to get fucked. In a bathroom. Where anyone could walk in. Louis had seen Elton John earlier. What if Elton John walked in?

“Harry, you’ve gotta stop. Let’s go home. Harry,” It’s hard to think when he’s being bitten exactly how he’s been imagining, all over his neck and jaw.

Elton John. Remember Elton John.

Louis yanks himself out of Harry’s grip and runs out the door. It’s a lot easier to breathe, his nose cleared by the boring scents of celebrities rather than the intoxicating smell of his mate. He rushes towards Niall’s blonde hair in the crowd.

“Niall, Harry and I are fucking off, see you tomorrow,” Louis rushes into Niall’s ear. He kisses Niall’s cheek and sprints through the crowd to the door. He smells Harry again, can feel his eyes on his back.

He speed walks outside, it’s muggy and hot and he sprints to Harry’s driver. He hops in, issues a quick greeting.

“Harry’s catching a ride with Niall. Go as fast as you can please. Harry’ll pay any tickets.”

 

* * *

 

Harry arrives at the flat thirty minutes after Louis, sweating through his designer clothes and panting like he’s just run the entire way there. Louis hopes he had. Maybe he’d let off some steam.

“Louis,” Harry hisses, his eyes black.

Louis is freshly showered and wearing Harry’s boxers. Harry’s eyes are flitting over his body, his fists clenched at his sides.

“You should stay in the guest room tonight,” he croaks.

Louis rolls his eyes. He stretches himself out in a way he knows shows off his neck, raw and bitten, and arches his back. “Should I?”

Harry’s mouth drops open. He shuffles onto the bed on his knees and spreads his hand out over Louis’s belly. Louis sits up and plants his mouth on Harry’s hard cock where it’s stretching the fabric of his pants.

“Louis, stop,” Harry whines, but he’s got a hand on Louis’s head, pinning him there.

Louis pulls away and rises to his knees. He kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth.

“Why do you keep avoiding this?” Louis murmurs, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s stiff as a board, panting, smelling so strongly of _home_ and _Alpha._ Louis is actually embarrassed by how wet he is.

“You saw. Tonight. You saw how I get. It’s not okay. I don’t like it…I get…” Harry loses his train of thought when Louis mouths over his jaw.

“What makes you think I don’t like that?”

Harry groans. “Louis, you don’t even realize, you’re so small and sweet when…I don’t want to hurt you…What if I go too far?”

Louis hates being called small, but somehow it sounds good coming from Harry. It sounds like a compliment.

“I want you to go too far. I want whatever you want.” He rubs at the line of Harry’s dick in his jeans. “I like the way you are. I like it when you hurt me. I liked it when you were gonna rip Liam apart just for standing next to me.”

Harry’s gone even more shaky and breathless. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Harry,” Louis whispers. “Been thinkin’ about it. When you marked me and Zayn kept making jokes, and it hurt for a week afterward.”

Harry bites him where his jaw meets his neck. It hurts and Louis whines. He wants to help Harry get his clothes off, but his hands won’t work. Harry laps at the hurt, then bites his shoulder. Harry’s hands slide down over his lower back, under the waistband of his boxers. He squeezes his arse hard with both hands, parting his cheeks, and Louis almost comes. Harry’s fingers are sliding against his skin where his wetness has spread. Louis would be embarrassed if he could think about anything other than the feeling of Harry’s teeth gnawing on his neck.

Harry pushes him onto his back, and rips his own shirt off, clean down the middle, buttons flying in every direction. A shoe flies across the room and there’s a mighty crash. His jeans and pants are torn off in much the same fashion. Louis watches, slack-jawed, as Harry grasps his big, bare cock in hand and gives himself a couple of strokes.

Louis is dying. He’s actually going to die. Harry’s mouth is so red, his teeth bared, his brow furrowed almost like he’s angry. His chest is heaving, sweat glistening, his tattoos dark against his skin.

Louis raises his arse and wiggles his soaking wet boxers off of his body. Harry looks at him like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen. Like Louis is the most important thing in the world.

Harry leans over him and sinks his teeth into Louis’s pec, then his nipple, tugging on it hard. He laves at the burning hurt as Louis tries to control the noises bursting from his mouth, then gives his other nipple the same attention. He moves down to Louis’s belly, biting and nipping, then runs his tongue over the head of Louis’s cock.

“So sweet. So sweet for me,” Harry murmurs. He bites into his thigh _hard,_ harder than he’s bitten him before, and Louis’s body clenches on nothing. It’s suddenly so hard not to come. He reaches down and squeezes himself hard, whining.

Harry grabs him by the wrist and flips him onto his belly. He’s frantic, mouthing at Louis’s neck, biting at his ears. He yanks Louis up by the hips and lets out a groan that isn’t entirely human. “You’re dripping. Fuck, you’re dripping for me,” He whispers reverently, and Louis suddenly is full of two massive fingers, rubbing curiously inside of him, and he’s blindsided by his orgasm, clenching down hard and wailing as he shoots all over his chest and the sheets below him.

Harry doesn’t let up, still rubbing inside of him, and it’s so sensitive and painful that Louis actually starts crying with how good it is. “Louis,” Harry says like a question.

Louis can’t do anything but arch his back, spreading himself like an offering. Then Harry’s pressing inside of him, his entire body weight crushing Louis into the bed. He can’t do anything but pant, tears streaming down his face.

“God Louis, you’re so pretty, so sweet for me, my Omega,” Harry’s voice is so deep Louis _sobs,_ pushing himself harder on his dick. Anything for his Alpha. Anything. He’s being so good for him, he’s getting bred, going to get full of Harry, smell like only Harry. Harry’s muttering a string of filth as he fucks him, a little on the edge of too hard, but it’s perfect. Like everything between them. The stretch is burning him from the inside, making him boneless and pliant, reduced to nothing but his arse, his burning mouth and chest, his wrists smashed together in one of Harry’s hands.

Then suddenly Harry’s even _bigger,_ like he’s grown, he’s dicking in right against Louis’s prostate, intense and way too much, it’s perfect, Louis has never felt so fucking full. Louis comes forever, shuddering and gasping. Harry pulls them onto their sides, hugging Louis tight with his whole body. He’s stopped thrusting, just pressed inside of him, loud in Louis’s ear, claws extended and digging into Louis’s hips.

“Alpha,” Louis blurts out, stupidly, overwhelmed. Harry kisses him sweetly, carding his fingers through his hair.

“S’good. Harry.”

Harry’s gone nonverbal, just licking over his lips, his jaw, over the numerous hurts he’d marked across Louis’s body. He doesn’t pull out, and Louis realizes he _can’t_ pull out, like they’re locked together. Like they should be, forever. Louis lets Harry groom him, wanting to return the favor but unable to do anything but shiver and come again, unexpectedly. Harry growls his approval, smoothing his hands over Louis’s thighs.

“Sleepy,” Louis murmurs, nuzzling the pillow beneath his head. He drifts off to the feeling of Harry’s hands smoothing across his body and his mouth cooling the searing marks on his skin.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took forever, some bad stuff happened in my life & stuff. :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry does a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is angsty as fuck but don't worry. There is an ending (a happy one) in sight! Sorry it took me so god damn long to post this ummm I couldn't figure out what I wanted to do but I think I figured it out.

There are cool fingers against his forehead. Ice cold. Then hot. Carding through his hair. Making his skin crawl. A wave of nausea rolls through him, sends him gasping, leaning over the bed, cold sweat spreading over him. 

 

“You hungry?”

 

Louis would shake his head but he knows if he moves he’ll vomit. The fingers smooth over his back. Louis gags down a gulp of water from the untouched glass on the bedside table. He’s tired again. 

 

“Don’t go to sleep, Louis, you need to eat.” Says the voice, fading as Louis presses his face into the pillow and falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

“I have to call him.”

 

Louis moans. “No,” It hurts so bad to talk. 

 

“He’s killing you. He’s going to kill you.”

 

A word echoes in Louis mind, just a thought, a sharp satisfying  _ good _ . He tramples on the sentiment. 

 

“‘m okay.” 

 

* * *

 

The orange sun burns too brightly. Louis has to squint in the evening light. Zayn sits at the foot of his bed, fully dressed, face forlorn. 

 

“I called Harry’s rep.”

 

Hope trickles in, too hot, too bright, like the sun outside, like Zayn’s touch, like the warmth welling in Louis’s eyes. 

 

“They’ve politely declined to speak with me.” Zayn says, hushed. Louis can feel the tear trailing down his own cheek, and he watches Zayn’s eyes follow the path down his face. 

 

* * *

 

Louis manages to stay awake to watch Harry on a talk show. Zayn told him not to watch it. He watches it anyway. 

 

Harry looks good. Healthy. Beautiful. Wearing a customized Gucci suit, his hair long, his white teeth gleaming. Louis sees a coldness to his mannerisms, a tick in his jaw. 

 

Louis pauses the show. He can’t see the screen anyway, through his tears. 

 

* * *

 

Two days in bed. He wakes to watch a clip of Harry on Youtube and to press his fingers to the scar on his shoulder. 

 

* * *

 

“Lou. Come out with us tonight.”

 

Zayn’s dressed beautifully, looking androgynous and every bit as powerful as he is. Louis can smell Liam and Anna in the hallway. He can barely make out the low rumble of conversation. The scent of other werewolves has his stomach rolling again. 

 

“Busy,” Louis grumbles. His perpetual state of sickness and nausea is somewhat better today. He’d slept four days straight after the full moon. He doesn’t remember much of what happened. He’d woken up in Zayn’s arms, his voice hoarse. He’s discreetly looking at pictures of Harry on Tumblr and playing Candy Crush. 

 

“You’re not,” Zayn says quietly. He scoots closer to Louis, slowly, gently. He’s always gentle with Louis these days. Louis is getting another migraine just thinking about it. 

 

“Liam and Anna are hosting a quiet party. Nothing but friends, mostly humans and vampires apart from the hosts. You’ll feel better if you come out with us.”

 

The screen, focussed on a picture of Harry mid-laugh with some friends in LA, begins to blur. Louis blinks a few times. “Okay,” he’s surprised by his own voice. 

 

Regret is a familiar emotion at this point, so Louis isn’t surprised by its reemergence at the party. He sits in a corner, glued to the wall, watching the room spin. There’s so fucking many of his old friends here. So many familiar scents. They look nervous when they see him. They ask him if he’s been feeling alright lately, because he looks so thin. 

 

“I’ve had a bad bout of the flu. Haven’t been able to kick it.” It works. They don’t know that he’s a werewolf and that he can’t get the flu. 

 

He drank a half a glass of champagne, but he can’t remember the last time he ate a full meal and it’s sitting on his stomach like acid. He clings to the wall, breathing deeply. He catalogues scents, reads the crowd. It’s a calm, happy room full of calm, happy people. Liam and Anna are bright little stars, flitting about and socializing. Zayn and Liam are as inseparable as Liam and Anna, roughhousing like teenagers, giggling and joking while Anna watches on fondly. 

 

Louis eyes a decorative plant, deciding if he can’t make it to the toilet he’ll vomit into it. 

 

A familiar scent. A flash. He remembers Harry’s big hand on his thigh, the smell of his breath (sweet, like his long island iced tea), the timbre of his laugh. Nick Grimshaw is greeted at the door by the trio. Louis watches with blurry eyes as they laugh and make small talk. 

 

Nick Grimshaw. One of Harry’s closest friends. Louis’s friend. 

 

Louis ditches his drink inside the house plant and rushes to the bathroom. 

 

Longing. Regret. Does he have other emotions? There’s a block of ice in his stomach. He vomits bile and rinses his mouth. 

 

The cool marble against his forehead does nothing to calm his raging thoughts. He groans.

 

Louis stumbles out of the bathroom and into the mix of confusing scents. He pinpoints Nick Grimshaw, blessedly, distracted and laughing across the room. Louis squeezes into a dark corner and prays for a miracle. (That Nick Grimshaw won’t scent him, won’t smell the nervous, decaying sweat clinging to his temple and his lower back.) 

 

Louis watches, in agony, as Nick Grimshaw’s nostrils flare, and his head snaps around. They make eye contact. 

 

Nick excuses himself from his conversation and crosses the room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

 

“Louis. You look,” Nick gives him a slow, dreadfully slow, once-over, “…well.” 

 

“Thanks. You look awful yourself as usual, mate,” Louis chokes. He’s going to die. This is going to be the moment that Louis William Tomlinson actually disintegrates. 

 

Nick doesn’t laugh. He’s still examining Louis with a calculated look. He looks….confused. 

 

“Really, though. You alright?” 

 

It startles Louis. He and Nick Grimshaw have never had a sincere, non-sarcastic interaction in their entire friendship. And Louis had just dumped his best friend. 

 

“‘M fine. I’m a bit drunk, but other than that I’m fine.” 

 

He’s having a bit of trouble focussing his eyes. 

 

Nick is silent for a long, long moment. Louis watches the vampire sniff the air, and then his eyebrows furrow even farther. 

 

“Listen, Harry is - “ Harry, he’s going to hear news about his  _ Alpha,  _ every muscle in his body tenses, his eyes widen, but Nick Grimshaw is cut off by a group of loud humans, all rushing over with little yells of “Grimmy!” 

 

He’s swept away in the crowd. Louis stands frozen in disbelief, and he locks eyes with Nick Grimshaw one last time before the man disappears. 

 

* * *

 

Louis dreams about their first full moon together. He can hardly bear to open his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

Zayn asks Liam to hold Louis by the scruff of his neck. It would have worked, had Liam’s scent not been too bitter, his fingers too thin, and his voice too gentle. 

 

* * *

 

Louis watches Harry at an award show. His arm is locked with a beautiful man, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, face chiseled, nearly as tall as Harry. 

 

Louis wakes up hours later to his room shredded to pieces, bits of fabric stuck in his teeth, and his TV nowhere to be found. He later remembers howling in agony in the woods. The dirt under his nails tells him he’d buried it. 

 

* * *

 

Harry wakes up with a fuzzy mouth and a pounding headache. That’s always how he wakes up, nowadays. A symptom of the drug. A symptom of his loss. 

 

He takes his injection and eats the breakfast in the fridge marked “Wednesday”. Louis had teased him about his meal planning. Louis’ pizza rolls are still in the freezer. 

 

Harry takes the next few minutes to call his contractor to come fix the hole he’s punched in his kitchen counter. 

 

* * *

 

It’s nice, seeing Nick again. Harry hasn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, what with his touring and promoting and video shooting and grieving. A lot of grieving. Nick had helped him through the worst of it, always fiercely intelligent and funny even when Harry felt like the world had started spinning the wrong way round. 

 

They order mimosas. Nick takes the piss out of him for “hooking up” with that French model. Harry hadn’t, and he says as much. Nick just waggles his eyebrows. 

 

“Speaking of hookups…” Nick trails off, looking vaguely uncomfortable. He sips his mimosa. Harry doesn’t understand why Nick still drinks mixed drinks, as vampires are really not supposed to ingest any sort of human food. Straight alcohol is healthier for them. Harry had told Nick this, and the man had laughed in his face. “I’m  _ immortal,  _ you sausage, who cares if I’m healthy.”

 

“I saw an old fling of yours the other night. Well. Bit more than a fling. Bit less than old.” The sadness in his face and the way he carefully traces Harry with his eyes tells Harry exactly who it was. Harry doesn’t let himself outwardly react. He was trained better than that. He can’t help but lean forward, though, he can’t help but eagerly wait for news, any news, about Louis. His Omega. 

 

“How was he?” Harry rasps. 

 

Nick grimaces. 

 

Harry’s stomach drops. 

 

“Not good, Harry.”

 

Harry hadn’t expected it. Louis had run out of his life so steadfastly, so surely, not looking back but to say fuck you over his shoulder, so bright and venomous in his anger and his outrage. Harry had expected to hear Louis was much the same, angry at Harry and living his life without him. 

 

“What do you mean?” Harry’s pulse is racing now. He spreads his hands out over his thighs, because sometimes when he thinks about Louis, he crushes things without thinking. 

 

“I was going to go over and harass him a bit. Y’know. Scold him on your behalf and all that.” Nick grins, but Harry can’t bring himself to grin back, “But as soon as I saw him…He looked awful. I could hear other people talking about it, too. He didn’t talk to anyone the entire night. He looks like he’s lost at least a stone. He looked really, really ill.” 

 

“Werewolves don’t get ill,” Harry chokes. 

 

Nick leans back in his chair. Harry realizes, suddenly, that he’s stood up. 

 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He smelled different, though.”

 

Harry can’t bear to hear anymore. He digs his keys out of his pocket. 

 

“I’ve gotta go Nick, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go - “ Harry fumbles with some cash, which he slams a bit too hard on the table. 

 

“Good luck, lad,” Nick calls to Harry’s retreating back while Harry scrubs a hand across his eyes and smiles for the paparazzi waiting for him outside. 

 

* * *

 

That morning, for the first time in over two months, Louis wakes up to the smell of his Alpha.

 

He hears the front door slam open, and hears footsteps running, thumping loudly up the stairs.  Louis yanks his brittle body out of bed before his brain even registers what’s happening. He sprints down the hall, every muscle aching in protest, and ducks into a guest room. 

 

Harry, wild and disheveled, bursts into the hallway. The scent of him brings Louis to his knees, his entire body, his entire being pinpointed on the scent of his mate, only a few short yards away. 

 

Harry doesn’t see him. Louis can hear him in his room, frenzied, pulling shit apart and thumping into walls. He hears Harry panting, the desperate, terrified edge to it. 

 

He then realizes that Harry can’t smell him. 

 

Louis’s anger burns his chest, his eyes, makes tears stream down his cheeks. He wipes them away with his clenched fists.

 

He finds himself back in his room, on Harry’s back, nails clawing at Harry’s face. Harry’s weak, weaker than he used to be, and he can’t fight Louis off. It makes Louis even angrier. He snarls and growls and his mouth waters with the urge to bite. 

 

He has Harry pinned to the floor, one hand on his throat, the other in a fist, poised in the air, ready to sock Harry as hard as he possibly can. 

 

Then he sees Harry’s face. He looks so young. Younger than Louis has ever seen him. Fat tears are leaking out of the corners of his eyes and into his hairline. He’s looking at Louis with…horror. 

 

“Baby,” Harry whispers, brokenly.

 

Louis scurries off of him. “I’m not your baby.” 

 

Harry pulls himself up, groaning. Louis wants to vomit. Harry can’t smell him. Harry’s not stronger than him anymore. He really took the drugs again. He really chose the drugs over Louis. It’s too real, having Harry in front of him. His big, powerful Alpha, smelling so much like himself but nothing like himself at all. 

 

Harry’s eyes flit over his body. The look of horror deepens. The apples of his cheeks redden the way they always do when Harry gets worked up. His nose is already leaking a little bit. 

 

Louis is suddenly unspeakably ashamed by what he must look like. He hasn’t paid much attention, lately, but it can’t be good. 

 

“You - “ Harry starts, but stops again. He takes in a big, heaving breath. Fresh tears fall. 

 

“Why are you crying? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Louis hisses viciously. He wraps his arms around his own body, trying to shield himself from Harry’s damning gaze. 

 

“No, baby, I didn’t want this. God, Louis - “

 

“You can’t even smell me anymore. I’m your mate and you c-couldn’t find me. You couldn’t smell me.” Louis’s fangs dig into his lower lip. 

 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” Harry sobs. 

 

It just makes Louis angrier. “What are you sorry for? Are you sorry for choosing your career over me? I don’t think you’re sorry about that. Your net worth is so much higher now, isn’t it? That’s what I’ve heard. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?”

 

Louis chest is heaving, he can’t catch his breath. “I told you that you would lose me if you took the drugs again. And you chose them.” 

 

Harry doesn’t challenge him, just continues to cry. 

 

If Louis tries hard enough, he can smell the scent of stale chemicals under the scent that has haunted him every waking moment of his life. 

 

Exhaustion hits Louis all at once. He hasn’t moved his much in a long time. Dizzy, he stumbles towards his bed and rests a hand against the frame. 

 

“Louis? What’s wrong?”

 

Harry’s at his side in an instant. He nuzzles into Louis’s neck and inhales deeply. It’s just a habit, Louis knows. 

 

Harry can’t smell him anymore. 

 

“Get off,” Louis screams. He tries to scream. What comes out is a slurred, garbled mess. His head is pounding. “Go away.”

 

Harry pulls him close, and he’s so warm. He’s so fucking warm and it makes Louis’s bones ache. He shudders, drinking in his scent. His headache dwindles to a dull throb. Harry’s hand moves up his back, and firmly grips him on the back of the neck. 

 

“My money never mattered to me, Lou. You’re all that matters to me.” Harry whispers some time later. Maybe hours. Louis can feel the softness of his lips against his temple. Harry’s stopped crying, but he takes in a shuddery breath every once in a while. 

 

“You let me leave. You took the drugs.”  _ You didn’t come after me.  _

 

_ “ _ They told me it was my only option. It was that, or they would drop me. My whole crew would be out of the job. I wouldn’t have a job.”

 

“You can’t smell me anymore,” Louis says, and it’s not what he meant to say. 

 

“I made you sick. I made you sick and I can’t even help you, because I can’t even scent you. I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry,” Harry strokes his hands through Louis’s hair. 

 

“I made myself sick. I’m the one who left,” Louis says, slapping Harry’s hands away. 

 

“I should have known. I should have known that being away from your bondmate would do this to you. I wouldn’t even answer when you tried to call me.” Louis presses his stinging eyes into Harry’s shirt. He inhales. Even through his pain, this is the best he’s felt in months.  

 

“Why didn’t you get sick?” Louis asks, in a small voice, but he already knows the answer. 

 

“The drugs. The drugs probably kept me from - from feeling the pull of the bond.” Harry’s voice tapers off into a whisper.

 

It hurts Louis more than he has any right to be hurt. He can’t even think to reply through the sharp sting. Harry had done whatever he could to sever their bond. He doesn’t have any right to be upset about it. He’s the one who’d left. 

 

“Please say something,” Harry begs. His tears are running into Louis’s hair. It feels gross.

 

“You’re always such a crybaby,” Louis says, also crying but hiding it better.

 

Harry laughs a shaky laugh into Louis’s hair. “I know. I always have been.”

 

“Why’d you come?” Louis mumbles.

 

“Heard you were sick.”

 

Louis pushes at Harry’s face so it’s far enough away for him to read. 

 

“So, you’re done with the drugs?”

 

Harry’s face crumples a little bit in answer. “I signed an agreement.”

 

Louis’ snarls a little bit. “Break it.”

 

“I can’t, baby, I can’t. It’s not that easy. I swore to finish the touring season and there’s no way I can do that with the changing schedule. It’s dangerous.”

 

Louis growls at him some more. “ _ We  _ aren’t dangerous. The drugs are dangerous. You come and apologize for making me sick with no intention of taking care of me like my Alpha should? Fuck you Harry. Maybe I should find a real Alpha to soothe me, like you found that blonde human to fuck.” 

 

Darkness is swirling in Louis chest. 

 

Harry pulls away from him, eyes widening, tears halting. He opens his mouth, closes it again. 

 

“I didn’t fuck anyone. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to. Not after I’ve had you. How could I?”

 

He grabs Louis’s hands tightly, kisses his knuckles, looking panicked.

 

“Well, maybe I can,” Louis says, but there’s ice in his veins and tears are flowing freely now, tears of relief because he can smell that Harry’s telling the truth but fucking  _ grief _ at how differently he smells. “Because I’m just a nasty dirty werewolf still, I’m d-dangerous--” 

 

He’s crying too much to finish his vindictive thought, he was going to try to insult the size of Harry’s knot and proclaim he could find one much better. He’s sobbing too hard to catch his breath.

 

It takes him a long time to calm down. He lets out all of his breath in one shaky sigh. 

 

He looks up at Harry. He looks miserable, slumped down low in the bed, watching Louis. 

 

“Would that make you happy? If you found someone else? I’d do anything to make you happy, baby. I wouldn’t interfere.” His voice quakes a little bit at the end.

 

“Oh, you wouldn’t, would you?” Louis hisses at him coldly. Harry pales a little bit at the venom in his voice.

 

“You’d be perfectly fine with me finding another Alpha? Maybe I’ll let Liam knot me, just to see how it feels, then? Maybe I’ll wait until my heat, still haven’t had one yet, maybe I’ll just wait until then and go find someone who’ll knot me. And you’ll just sit by and smile and watch, will you? As long as I’m fucking happy?”

 

There’s a silence. Harry’s face is frozen on the same expression he had at the beginning of Louis’s little tirade, somewhere between guilt and nervousness. Color slowly fills his face. His muscles bulge with the way he clenches them. The veins in his neck rise and pump blood to his face, which has twisted into a snarl. Louis completely soaks his underwear, embarrassingly, at the sight of Harry’s fangs growing over his lower lip. A low growl bursts out of those shiny white teeth. 

 

“There he is,” Louis laughs, mockingly. He narrows his eyes at his growling, trembling,  _ angry _ Alpha. He can see Harry’s hard dick tenting his jeans, they’re an old pair that Louis has seen many times, has given Harry many boners in them, and yet they have never looked as fucking good as they do in now. 

 

“What? Does that make you mad, baby? I thought that’s what you wanted? You wanted someone else to have my first heat, right? That’s what you just said.” 

 

Harry changes, abruptly, an explosion of chestnut fur and claws and _SOUND._  Louis is taken aback by the sudden appearance of the wolf, the way the room is now ten sizes too small, the way the volume of Harry’s growls now threatens to burst his eardrums. 

 

Harry’s green eyes are wide, pupils tiny, the corners of his mouth already dripping with foam. His hackles are completely raised, ears tall, tail alert. He’s gorgeous, so beautiful, as beautiful as the day Louis first met him. 

 

Harry moves toward him, but Louis yelps at him, “Stay back! You need to calm down, Harry.”

 

Harry growls, disobeys. He moves as if to pin Louis beneath him and Louis rolls, dodging his attack.    
  
“You are  _ not  _ fucking me as a wolf, Harry, you will  _ hurt me. _ ” Louis snarls at him. Harry backs off, but his panting has only increased, the foam of his spit seaping down onto his neck.

 

Suddenly Louis is very, very afraid.

 

“Harry? Baby?” 

 

Harry barks at him, so fucking loud, and stomps his massive paws on the ground. He lets out a high whine, his breathing too-fast, his eyes rolling.

 

Louis can’t think of anything else to do. He prays to the moon, he takes a deep breath of Harry’s beautiful, angry, panicked scent, and attacks.


End file.
